


Seasonal Shenanigans

by girlskylark



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst after part 9, Back to Earth, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Galra Keith (Voltron), Galra heat but in a subdued realistic way, Gay Keith (Voltron), Humor, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Jealous Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Keith carrying Lance, Krolia and Lotor bonding moments, Lance and Keith go exploring, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Memes, Mutual Pining, One-Sided Lotura, One-Sided Lotura AFTER Part 3, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Quintessence field made Lotor obsessed with Allura, Returning Home, Season 6 Compliant, Sharing Clothes, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Sparring, Star Wars References, Summer Vacation, Swimming, Sword Training, Training, Tumblr Memes, Vacation, canonverse, keith purrs, let Shiro rest, olkarion, post-season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 81,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlskylark/pseuds/girlskylark
Summary: A series of post-season 6 shenanigans.Part 1:Keith spends his first Galran cycle on Olkarion with the squad with Lance as his only form of constant company. Being around his crush with his "sensible" nature on hold due to the cycle... makes for an interesting set of endeavors.Part 2:With the Squad's teludav complete, they book it to Earth and discover a more sinister side to the Garrison. Their vacations are put on hold when disaster strikes the paladins—specifically Lance McClain.





	1. 1.1 || Making & Keeping Friends

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY ALL OF THE ART AFTER THIS SEASON?? LIKE?? BLESS THIS FANDOM. 
> 
> Inspired by [salineshots' comic](https://ijustneedmorespace.tumblr.com/post/175033429536) and [caseydambro's comic](http://caseydambro.tumblr.com/post/175029565730/something-to-consider). I haven't written Voltron shit in over a month but DAMN, y'all got me good.

** P A R T     1 **

* * *

 

 

Without a wormhole, returning to Earth would be near impossible, or at the very least, unfeasible. The team’s best option was to spend an intermediary period at Olkarion while Coran, Pidge, and Hunk worked with the Olkari to utilize the teludav equipment being housed there. Keith wasn’t entirely surprised by the Lions’ stubbornness to create wormholes themselves—it seemed all variations of feline had bouts of unexplainable obstinacy.

With the majority of the team dispersed, and his mother and Romelle occupied by friendly Olkari, Keith was left to his own devices. He didn’t mind the quiet, but it gave him time to realize how much he wanted out of his uniform. He was tired of auto-adjust armor. Half the time it felt like he wasn’t wearing anything at all, and while he never went commando, the general sensation of being half-naked wasn’t appealing.

As he left the Black Lion, duffle tossed over one shoulder, he found the medical staff in the facility carting away Shiro’s healing tube within Shiro inside. The Altean tech, matched with Shiro’s white healing suit and hair, nearly made Shiro disappear as Keith came to stand beside the glass. He peered past his own reflection to Shiro’s quiet complexion.

“Princess Allura suggested we attach him to one of our machines,” one of the Olkari explained. “He’ll be in good hands.”

“Where is this?” Keith asked. The woman explained the directions to Keith—Shiro would be in a different building, not far from the facility the Lions were housed in. 

He watched them walk off with Shiro before leaving the Black Lion. Its barrier drifted up, sealing the Black Lion away. Keith stood in the hall, watching all of the lights in the atrium cut out one by one. The Black Lion became nothing more than a few glowing blue stripes in the dark before the atrium doors hissed shut.

Keith checked his tablet for directions to his room. He was in a hall with the rest of the team—that’d take him back. It was hard to forget what it was like living in a dormitory, and he was surprised that he found himself missing an actual mattress, no matter how rock-hard they were. It would definitely beat sleeping on actual rocks.

On the stairs up, he spied a familiar figure leaning against the railing, peering down at the dozens of floors below them. The building was shaped around a circular epicenter that vaulted to the top floor, encircled with stripes of luminescent light fixtures. Lance stood between two floors of such light, and it made it appear as though his smile was glowing when he looked out at the building.

“Hey,” Keith said, stepping up to the railing beside Lance. “Have you found your room yet?”

“Not really,” he confessed. “I got a little… distracted.”

They paused to watch a lift drop from the top floor, and hover over the fifth. It sent a gust of wind barreling around them, sweeping Lance’s hair back, and Keith’s hair forward. He pushed it back from his forehead.

“Any plans?” Lance asked, stepping away from the railing. Keith took the hint—finding their rooms together, it seemed. “Mother-son bonding time, eating-actual-food time…”

“Training time, more like,” Keith said. “I heard there’s a training room here and I really need to get back into it. Sparring with a tree isn’t the same as drones.”

Lance threw his head back and laughed. “Fighting trees?! Yikes, tell that to the environmental club back at the Garrison.”

“I didn’t even know there was one,” he confessed, shock seizing up his chest. “God, they’d probably hate me now. Killing Earth-trees for heat and now space-trees.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Except that we are going back to the Garrison. I wonder if Iverson missed me,” Lance said with a wistful sigh. He stretched his arms up over his head as they turned a corner. He hooked his hands together behind his head and looked to Keith. Keith hadn’t realized he’d been staring until Lance was suddenly doing the same.

Keith’s navigational app pinged, and he looked down to find his door a step to the right.

“I’ll see you later,” he blurted quickly, hurrying to scan his tablet over the door sensor. The instant the door swung open, he slipped through and stepped out of view, slamming the close button on the column. 

He tossed the tablet through the open bed pod door and put his hands to his face. Why did it feel like he just ran a mile? He rubbed his palm against the chest of his armor before prying it up over his head. His lungs expanded— _at last_ —and he was able to breathe once more.

He unclasped his leg armor and the belt around his waist. He tossed it onto the bed and slipped out of the under armor, exposing a cut of pale skin over his shoulder. After passing his fingers over the ridges of the scar, he reached down to his duffle and pried it open. The clothes that lied within were untouched and just as they were two years prior when he last needed them at the Castle. Keith wasn’t sentimental, but he must have kept them for  _some reason_ , even though he never expected to come back to them.

He lifted the black shirt up before shaking out his pair of black jeans. It could have just been the lighting, but he swore they were smaller than he remembered.

Regardless, he tugged them up—as far as they could go. It took some heaving to get them past his calves, and even then the fabric dug into his hips as he tried to zip them up. He yanked on the zipper until it snapped straight off.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he swore, holding the zipper up. He scowled, pursing his lips as he dropped his hands to his sides, thumbing at the hem of his too-tight jeans.  _Well, maybe the shirt still fits_ .

It didn’t fit.

He couldn’t get it over his shoulders.

He stared at the mirror in horror before throwing his arms up over his face with a frustrated groan. Of  _all of the places_ he could have gone through a growth spurt! If he asked anyone around Olkari they’d just give him duplicates of the auto-adjustable suits. He didn’t exactly want to walk around in an Olkari dress—that was certainly  _one way_ to get Lance to make fun of him. 

_Lance_ .

Keith tried to remember, and failed to remember, just how tall Lance was now. Lance always seemed broader that Keith, even before he left the castle, which would definitely solve the shirt problem. He’d have to play the pant-situation by ear, but who could say whether or not Lance would be willing to sacrifice his much-beloved Earth apparel?

_We’re going back to Earth anyway_ , Keith rationed, opening the door.  _Besides, if I go around wearing Voltron armor on Earth_ everyone _will think I’m an alien. Which… wouldn’t be wrong…_

Lance’s room wasn’t far—just five steps, exactly. Keith knocked and stepped back realizing that he was still carrying the useless shirt with him. He turned around and chucked it through his open door just as Lance’s door hissed open. 

“What do you—” Lance started, only to halt when Keith turned back to him, visibly annoyed.

“Can I borrow some clothes?” Keith asked, eyes on the ceiling. He sighed looking down and narrowly missing the fact that Lance had been staring at him and the scars across his chest. “My clothes I kept at the Castle don’t fit anymore. I think we’re about the same size now?”

“I, uh—I dunno. You seem… bigger… than me,” Lance said. “Not in a sexual way! Just in a—You know what I mean. Height wise.”

Keith raised an eyebrow and watched as Lance turned and immediately tripped over the bag he left sitting next to the door. Lance cursed and staggered to the left, dipping down and snatching up his clothes duffle. He dropped it onto the bed and unzipped it, ears pink. 

“Try this?” Lance said, holding up a plain blue shirt. He tossed it at Keith, who caught it and lifted it up. It was long-sleeved and topped with a v-neck collar. As Lance dug around for jeans, Keith slipped on the shirt and, though it was snug around the arms, it fit his torso fine. It made sense—Keith spent his time with the Marmora weight-lifting as part of his training. 

He slipped off his pants as Lance tossed him a pair of jeans. 

“Yikes! Okay, looking away,” Lance squeaked. 

“I have  _underwear on_ , geez,” Keith said, yanking his useless pants off his feet. They got caught on the heels, so it took some extra oomf to get them free. 

Lance’s pants zipped up perfectly fine. 

“Oh, sweet,” Keith said, twisting around and to check the back of them in the mirror. He did an experimental squat before perking back up and turning to Lance. “I can give them back after we get home.”

“I—Well—You don’t  _have_ to give them back. I mean, they look fine on you,” Lance said, scratching the back of his neck as Keith bent down to pick up his fallen pants and shirt. 

“Seriously—this is awesome. I’m sick of the uniforms,” Keith said, passing the threshold.

He made it halfway across the width of the hall before Lance said anything again. “Hey, wait,” he said, prompting Keith to turn back around with an eyebrow raised. Lance swallowed hard, glancing back at his room before pointing to Keith. “You… mentioned that you were gonna hunt down the training facility, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well, I—um, you know, my bayard evolved like a fucking Pokemon so now I’ve got a sword I don’t know how to use?” Lance said, eyes wide as he studied Keith, scared to even ask. “Would you maybe, I dunno, wanna… help me figure it out?”

Thankfully, Keith was able to answer before his brain short-circuited again. What was with his lungs, and why couldn’t he catch his breath? They agreed to meet back in the hallway so that Keith could strap his belt through the loops of Lance’s jeans and holster his Marmora blade, but it wasn’t enough time for Keith to come to terms with the reason why he couldn’t control his brain. After spending so much time with the Marmora, hiding his expressions was a breeze, but he only hoped it’d last as he walked side-by-side with Lance through the facility in search of the training arena.

Was it because he hadn’t seriously  _talked_ with Lance in a while? Granted, it’d just been a short while for Lance in comparison to the two years Keith spent with his mother, but he couldn’t help but notice that Lance was acting off, too. They were friends, weren’t they? Maybe friends didn’t share clothes. He shared Shiro’s clothes before and it was never a big deal, though, so what was different about this?

_You don’t_ really _know the guy, do you?_ his brain supplied.  _Aside from what he decides to show the team, that is_ .

That wasn’t true. Lance was always an open guy. If anything, Lance hardly knew a thing about  _Keith_ . A one-sided friendship. Keith should have known. Back with the Marmora, socializing wasn’t huge, but when it came to talking, lies and half-truths weren’t the way to go. All of his Marmora cohort knew about the antics at the Castle, and everyone who once occupied it. There weren’t any secrets with the Marmora like there were between Keith and the rest of the team.

“So where’s your wolf?” Lance asked.

“With my mom,” he said automatically. After a short pause, he cleared his throat. “You know they fell from the sky like a meteorite?”

Lance jumped with a gasp, thrilled by the idea. “No way! Dude, that’s so cool! What’d you name ‘em?”

“I haven’t decided,” he confessed.

“ _What?_ Are you kidding me? You were on that planet for—what? two years? and you’re telling me you didn’t name your fucking dog?”

“ _Yeah_ , that’s what I’m saying. Usually I just call them Wolfie. You know, like Wolfgang or some badass mafia guy,” Keith said despite the fact that Lance was now smacking himself in the head repeatedly with his palm.

“I can’t  _believe you_ .”

“My mom recommended Yorak, but that just seems like a commitment,” he confessed, and laughed at the disgusted look on Lance’s face. Yeah, this was how people socialized. 

They talked about Wolfie until a chat with a facility worker led them to the arena gates. They stepped in through the second story as the massive barred doors slammed shut behind them. The sound resonated through the entire training field, from the Voltron banners to the control booth. The worker took them to the control room to set up the system to their tablets, inputting them each as admins to the system.

By the time they walked out onto the field, Lance was practically doing cartwheels. He buzzed with energy, spinning out into the open court with his arms out. Keith was certain that if Lance didn’t have his bayard in his hand, he’d be witnessing those cartwheels. Instead, Lance merely went for a spin before snapping a pose, stance wide, bayard flaring to life.

Lance jabbed it forward in an  _on guard_ position. “Let’s do this,” he said.

Keith quirked an eyebrow, grinning as he stepped up to Lance’s side. “Well, first, this isn’t a rapier. You can’t—”

“A  _raper_ ?!” Lance shrieked.

“ _No_ . A  _rapier_ ! It’s a piercing sword. You know, with the pointy end,” Keith explained. “This blade is meant to handle cuts, not stabs. A rapier is handled similarly to fencing, not crossings. A crossing is when you’re sparring with another person who also has a sword.”

Lance glanced back at Keith with a dull look, lowering his sword. Keith snapped Lance’s wrist back up, thrusting the sword to lie parallel with Lance’s chest.

“You want me to teach you, right?” Keith said, and Lance pouted. Lance turned his hard gaze to the floor, and back up to the sword with a firm nod. “Right. Most drones fight with guns but if you’re in close-range, deflections are your best bet. Ultimate goal is to either open their defenses, or disarm them—”

They practiced simple steps that came naturally to Keith after training with the Marmora. They raided one of the training closets and used a dowel as a safety measure for Lance to practice with. They parried down the length of the touchline and back, practicing with forward and backward pacing. After half an hour of this, Keith was starting to regret wearing a long sleeve shirt. He should have asked for a tank top. Would Lance entirely hate him if he tore the sleeves off of this? They limited his motion, and it seemed as though they weren’t quite the exact same size as Keith was hoping for. 

At least the pants fit well.

Immediate sword fighting meant seeing the concentration burning into Lance’s face up close and personal. It took all of Keith’s effort as a competitive guy two slacken the intensity, but it just made his efforts boring, so he wound up focusing on Lance’s expressive brows and wide blue eyes. Despite the initially chilly atmosphere, the arena became hot by the end of the hour.

Keith cut his dowel down, scraping along the edge of Lance’s wooden, makeshift sword. Lance dropped to a knee, turning the sword perpendicular to the ground. Keith’s dowel touched Lance’s closed fist. 

“Good. And then you’d twist my sword around the guard and push me back,” Keith said, and they did just that. They worked slow, in easy steps as Lance rose up and backed Keith down with his makeshift sword flat against Keith’s.

At the end of the motion, Lance leant back with a roll of his eyes as Keith complimented him on his progress. “Right, right, but I’ve  _been_ fighting with this. Can’t we actually spar?”

“You… want to spar with me?” Keith said, almost laughing, but he had the good sense to stop short at the intensity of Lance’s glare. “Why?”

“Because you’re  _actually_ good. I want to know how I compare,” Lance said, rolling his shoulders back. He looked away towards his bayard against the wall. “I exhausted as many of the training sequences as I could back in the Castle.”

“How far did you get?” Keith asked, eyes wide. He had to admit, he was mildly impressed that Lance put in any effort at all towards sword fighting. He could have easily stuck to sniping—he was excellent at that as is—and Keith couldn’t help but remember how annoyed Lance used to be about practicing in general. 

Lance flushed, though the exertion from drills made him a bit pink in the cheeks as it was. “Not… as far as you. Like, if the Castle training field was a fucking arcade game you’d be in first place but… But I mainly focused on the exercises that I could memorize fast. You know, muscle memory. And all that.”

Keith heart stuttered into his throat. “I would not be in first place,” he said, but even as he said it, he knew he was wrong. Lance’s annoyed look said as much.

“Just fight me already so we can decide on that, huh Hothead?” Lance said, smirk growing as he reached down and picked up his bayard. He tossed the dowel at the wall and let it roll to the side. Keith chucked his along with it, unsheathing his knife. 

“You’re on,” Keith said.

Before they could get started, Keith reached back and tore his shirt up over his head. He tossed it with the fake swords, only to stop at the way Lance blanched, hands on his knees. “What? It’s hot,” Keith said.

“No the fuck it isn’t,” Lance gasped, hand over his heart. Keith rose an eyebrow and started for the center of the training field. Lance met his eyes, redder than before. “It isn’t hot, Keith.”

Keith’s entire body was on fire. It flashed through him in cold waves like scorching blue fire. “Uh, yeah it is,” he said, and hesitated as Lance dropped to his knees and pretended to faint. “If my scars make you uncomfortable I can put it back on—”

“It’s not the scars,” Lance moaned, popping back up. He sucked in a deep breath before getting back to his feet. “Alright. Whatever. Let’s just go.”

The instant Lance had his bayard out, Keith switched his sword hand and struck the blade out to its full length. He raised it up, bracing it with a hand at the back of the sharp edge as he eyed Lance.

Lance smirked over the edge of his sword. 

Keith grinned. “Go.”

He lunged forward, clashing his sword against Lance’s with enough force and enough surprise to send Lance staggering back. Lance leant on his back foot and dodged to the left, swinging back and arcing his sword up to meet Keith’s next attack. The fact that he was even able to do so without constant eye-contact was enough to convince Keith that Lance was through with the basics.

_He must have gotten past level four in the Castle system_ , he thought to himself as their swords scraped together, Keith’s cutting down to the base of Lance’s bayard. He hooked his sword over and deflected Lance’s attack, twisting behind Lance and pressing his blade over Lance’s neck.

“Fuck,” Lance cursed, slumping away from Keith’s sword. “Let’s go again. Two out of three.”

Two out of three turned into four out of five, six out of seven, eight out of nine. 

Keith was sweating before even the fourth bout, but the thrill of sparring always pushed his energy over the edge. And with Lance, the guy who never knew when the quit, sparring was more of an adrenaline rush than actual practice. They fought with their own unique intensity—Keith, out for survival, and Lance, out to win. Keith forgot about holding back and gave it his all, cutting slice after thrust before backing Lance into a wall, shoving the flat of his blade against Lance’s.

Lance swept Keith’s force down, sending Keith’s blade skidding down the length of Lance’s. Keith spun to the side, swiping his blade up and narrowly avoiding a nicked ear in the process. Lance laughed, out of breath, and slammed his elbow into Keith’s shoulder, backing him into the wall. Keith swapped hands and, before Lance could check him, disengaged him. Lance’s bayard went flying, and the instant it did, Lance lunged after it.

Lance hit the ground with a roll, skidding up to the fallen bayard in time for it to flare to life and catch Keith inches away from another check and another win. Keith shoved his body over Lance’s, hooking his sword around Lance’s, and using his momentum to fling Lance head-over-heals as he fell. Lance shrieked, collapsing on the ground a few feet away with Keith on top of him.

“Shit!” Lance cried, staring in alarm at Keith, who sneered back. “Whoa, dude—”

“I win.”

“Yeah, but—Dude, your face. It’s, like…” 

Keith hesitated, expression dropping as Lance’s eyes flitted over his expression. He backed away, pushing up to his feet. He put a hand to his face over the burn mark, but didn’t feel anything off other than a being on  _fire_ . Maybe his face was red?

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked, holding his sword up to see his reflection in the blade. It’d been a while since he had the time to polish it, but the reflection was still clear.

Maybe it was just the color of his sword, but his skin looked  _purple_ , and his  _eyes_ . His pupils were mere slits, stretched to the height of his scleras. Were his scleras…  _yellow?_

“Nothing’s  _wrong with it_ ,” Lance insisted, standing with a roll of his eyes. “You just… went a little galra. It’s normal. I mean, that’s normal, right? Like, this has happened before?” he asked, talking fast as Keith stared at him, and remembered what he must look like.  _Galra_ . He turned his back on Lance and put a hand to his forehead.

“ _No_ , it’s  _not_ normal. I don’t think this has happened before,” he confessed, but the instant he started enunciating the ‘ _f_ ’, he felt it. His gums hurting. His canines. Those years with his mom, he started to notice it, but never this profound. He pursed his lips over his teeth to keep them concealed as Lance walked around to look him in the eyes again.

“Well, the color’s already fading. Your eyes are still a little yellow,” Lance said, reaching forward to push a finger to Keith’s cheek. “Maybe you’re just jaundice.”

Keith gave him a dull look and knew he’d regret it if he opened his mouth now, but he did anyway. “Yeah, as if I’m a  _newborn infant_ .”

“Whoa! Buddy, your teeth!” Lance cried, clapping his hands. Keith rolled his eyes. At least  _someone_ was thrilled by this. Keith’s skin started to itch, and it climbed up his spine in a shockwave. He scratched at his arm and turned away again, heading for the control room. “That’s so cool! I bet you could, like, tear someone apart with those.”

“Don’t know. Never tried,” he said with a dismissive wave. He grabbed the shirt Lance gave him on his way, thinking about steak, and wishing he had some right about now. His mouth started to water. 

Lance chased after him, and together they headed for the control room where they debated on how to turn the system off. The entire time, Keith could see Lance’s reflection in the control room screens. He was  _staring at Keith_ like some kid at an aquarium. Keith flushed, and to his dismay, Lance noticed it and complimented him on his skin turning purple again.

“Shut up,” he hissed, sharp enough to be a growl. Lance backed off immediately. “Let’s just… turn this thing off. Any ideas?”

“This one?” Lance said, pointing to a button.

“No, those are terrane controls.”

“It looks cool though. Let’s see what happens,” he insisted, and pushed the button. A warning popped up in Olkari, and Lance dismissed it.

An instant later, a loud  _hiss_ resonated throughout the entire arena. The first floor of the arena began pushing in, squaring off the middle of the room. Lance gasped in amazement, only to scream when a torrent of  _water_ descended from the ceiling like one consistent downpour. Keith stared at it, knowing that rationally, he should have been pissed that they now had an  _entire pool to worry about_ , but the thought of cooling off was just too tempting to resist. 

Keith was heading for the control room exit almost immediately.

“Whoa, buddy, what are you doing?” Lance said.

Keith stopped in the doorway, hand on the zipper of his pants. “What? Just going for a swim.”

“You really think that’s a good idea? What if the water’s, like, contaminated,” Lance said, but Keith was already leaving. “You don’t know the toxicity levels of Olkari H2O!”

Keith wasn’t listening. He was wiggling out of Lance’s pants.

“Okay, fine! Whatever, don’t listen to me. Get an allergic reaction for all I care!” Lance said, voice squeaky. 

Keith ran the rest of the way down the platform, across the gym floor, and dove in. 

The water lapped around him, lukewarm and  _oh-so perfect_ . He never wanted to resurface, but eventually, his lungs begged to differ. He emerged, gasping, and tossing his hair back with a sigh. He floated back and pinwheeled his arms. It felt like the water was evaporating off of his stupidly hot chest. He laid a hand over it just to double-check, but no steam arose. 

He was thinking about a nice ice bath when he remembered to wonder about Lance. He looked to the control panel, but he couldn’t see Lance through the glass. He straightened up and looked around the gym, only to startle at the crystal-clear sound of a door slamming open and Lance screaming, “ _CANON-BALL!_ ” at the top of his lungs.

Keith looked to the second story where Lance was vaulting over the railing in nothing but his boxer briefs. He soared, legs flailing until the split second he crashed into the water. A wave came crashing over Keith, amplified by the gravity difference on Olkari. Keith didn’t expect to be sloshed up against the side of the pool by it, but he was, and the shock brought his eyes to meet Lance’s. 

“Shit,” they both said. 

Keith scrambled out of the pool before Lance could even get out the words, “ _WAVE POOL!_ ” He swam after Keith and rolled out onto the gym floor. Keith took a running start and lunged into the water, belly-first. 

The resonating  _slap!_ cast a whirlwind of tides that collided with the ones Lance served earlier. Lance clashed straight into one on his leap, and sent a ripple-effect across the pool. Keith barely resurfaced before being smacked in the face by a bout of disrupted water. He came through it laughing, pushing the water from his eyes and slicking his hair back. Lance was floundering atop a wave threatening to collide them both. 

Lance hit him in the chest with an “ _oof!_ ” that was warped underwater as Keith tipped back, arms going around Lance. They spun under the waves before popping back up where their feet could touch. Keith hurried to the edge of the pool, clasping on despite the constant rocking. 

He couldn’t believe how good that felt.

Lance coughed up water, still caught in the whirlpool. Keith reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him over to the edge of the pool. Lance slumped over it, arms hooked on the edge.

“ _Fuck_ , man, waterparks are never that intense,” he rasped. “They’re always so  _lame_ .”

“For good reason. Don’t die on me,” Keith said, clapping his hand  _hard_ on Lance’s back. Lance sputtered and let out a high-pitched, “ _Ouch_ …”

They swayed on the edge of the pool for a while until most of the heat was gone from Keith. He was just coming to terms with returning to the real world when they were interrupted by a horrified gasp from the control room. The speakers crackled on and the worker cried, “ _You’re supposed to ask for authorization before filling the pool!_ ”

“Crap,” Keith hissed, swinging up fast to his feet. He skidded on the slippy floor, and realized what the Olkari was so pissed about—the entire gym was  _drenched_ after the wave pool party. 

Lance cursed as he rolled out onto the gym floor and skidded after Keith. As they grabbed their shit off the stairs, the water started to retreat from the pool. They ran through the control room, avoiding the worker with hasty apologies on their way out.

Water was still dripping from them as they ran through the facility corridors, now-damp clothes clutched to their chests. Lance giggled, racing ahead of Keith with a giddy whoop, leaping into the air. “That was awesome! Man, we gotta go on more adventures.”

“How ‘bout finding laundry as our next adventure,” Keith suggested, skidding to a halt at one of the building maps. He glanced over it hastily before deciding his tablet would translate it better. 

Lance was a giggling mess the entire way to the laundry room, and was no help whatsoever when it came to asking directions. Every Olkari they encountered was struck by the embarrassment of talking to half-naked humans out in the open, and Lance would blush and try to cover both his nipples and his private parts as if any of that mattered. Keith smacked him in the chest after another failed attempt at Olkarion conversation.

“Okay, next person we talk to, you hide and I deal with the talking,” Keith decided, and Lance frowned.

“What, aren’t I handsome enough?” he asked, striking a pose. He kept his clothes clasped over his crotch. Keith resisted the urge to look down, clenching his jaw tight. He looked like he was about ready to murder Lance, and Lance got the hint. “Right, you do the talking.”

On the lower floors, Keith finally stopped a worker at the lift. They were unloading shit onto hover panels and carting them away. Keith approached a person with a tablet and asked, “Do you know where they do laundry here?”

The person raised an eyebrow. “Do what here?” they asked.

“Laundry.” Keith lifted the clothes up. “Washing clothes?”

“Washing…”

“Cleaning,” he reiterated. He held up his tablet where the audio feed picked up the dialogue. The person leaned in, squinting, to read it. 

“ _Oh_ ! Sub-2, follow the carts.”

Keith was nearly too frustrated to thank the person before hurrying back to where Lance was watching, peering around the corner. The instant Keith was close enough, Lance said, “Your ass looks good in those.”

“Are you kidding me right now with this shit?” Keith blurted out. “I’ve spent the past three-and-a-half years training—my ass better look good. Now c’mon we’ve got shit to clean.”

He grabbed Lance by the head and turned him around, pushing him off in the direction of the elevators. Lance yelped and staggered in, twisting around to mouth off at Keith, only to halt at the fact that Keith was blushing purple again. Keith scowled at the door as it closed, and Lance beamed happily beside him. 

“Brings back memories,” Lance crooned. 

Keith slapped a hand over his forehead and groaned. He couldn’t breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless. Might write more. If I go more into depth I wanna rise Lotor from the dead and fuck shit up. 
> 
> IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS FOR SHENANIGANS, SEND EM TO ME!
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://girlskylark.tumblr.com/)


	2. 1.2 || Jedi Inc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance are on a journey to clean their clothes, but wind up in the infirmary instead. Han Solo is involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WROTE MORE TODAY SO HERE IT IS! I WAS ALSO JUST AMAZED BY THE OVERALL RECEPTION OF THE FIRST CHAPTER THAT MY BRAIN JUST IMPLODED WITH MORE IDEAS.

The instant the elevators cranked open, Lance was out in the open, hooting like mad, and leaping at every given opportunity. Keith chased after him, snatching him by the wrist, and dragging him firmly back into a normal walking position. 

“ _Calm down_ ,” he hissed. They slowed at the edge of the laundry corridor, narrowly avoiding being flattened by an automated track meant to cart clothing to and fro. There was an incoming cart, and despite Keith’s hand still latched onto Lance’s wrist, Lance took off for it. “ _Lance!_ ”

Lance vaulted into the moving cart of dirty clothes. A plume of sheets billowed up over him, all except his hands that were raised up with Keith latched onto one. Keith staggered, stumbling after the cart. He clasped onto the back of it and yelped, feet nearly skidding off the hover base’s engine. 

Lance popped up as the cart spun around a corner. Keith’s entire body swayed, and the cart tipped dangerously towards dumping them both flat on the floor. 

A worker stared in horror as their cart sped down the corridor carrying two half-naked humans on it. Lance waved eagerly, calling out, “Don’t mind us— _whoa!_ ”

He fell back in the cart, feet kicking up sheets. He tossed one over Keith, who yanked it off and regretted letting one of his hands free.

“Look out!” he cried as the cart made a 90 degree turn through a slot in the wall. 

Keith ducked, Lance huddled, and they narrowly managed to avoid being decapitated in the process.

Keith twisted around to stare at the opening as it slammed shut. The wind shoved his hair in his face, so he swept it back as he turned forward once more—just as the cart squealed to a halt. The momentum sent Keith’s torso pitching forward, toppling over Lance.

He groaned and flopped to the side, gangly limps slumped over the edge of the cart. Lance squeaked and scrambled around in the sheets trying to escape. “Sorry…” Keith groaned, putting a hand to his head. They both simultaneously rolled over the edge of the cart and flopped onto the ground. “Jesus Christ…”

“Tell me about it,” Lance said, raising a fist into the air. “That was  _killer_ ! We could go, like, laundry cart surfing.”

“Maybe later. First thing’s first,” he declared, getting to his feet. He grabbed his clothes out of the cart he and Lance hijacked. 

Lance led the way to the end of the assembly line of automated machines dumping carts of used fabrics into a vat of hot water. Keith found himself stopping to study the futuristic warehouse atmosphere they were in, and then landed on Lance’s back. He caught himself studying Lance’s muscles and wondering,  _Damn, when did he get those?_ down to Lance’s no-longer-flat-ass thinking,  _Damn, when did that become a thing?_ when Lance chucked a shoe at Keith. 

“Eyes on the prize, buddy,” Lance said, pointing to the machine. “You think our clothes will survive that?”

Keith shook his head, and stepped over to peer down at the sanitized water bath. “Don’t think so,” he confessed. He double-checked the worn tag on Lance’s shirt. “100% cotton. Damn. How is this in good shape still?”

“I take good care of my clothes,” Lance said, nose in the air. He then pointed to the equipment down the way, at the end of the railing. “Maybe we just… fill a bucket with cold water and recreate  _Little House On The Prairie?_ ”

“Sounds good to me,” Keith said.

That was how they ended up on their hands and knees dunking soap into buckets of cold water and sloshing their clothes around in it. Keith kept his eyes on the water as best he could, but when he was sharing a vat with Lance, it was kind of hard to ignore the water droplets collecting on Lance’s tanned skin, or the cute crease on Lance’s abdomen as he bent over and submerged his jeans all at once.

“This one time,” Lance was staying, rubbing his forehead against his arm, “we lived in a house on a river. It was, like, for sixth months but it was a lot of fun. We spent the entire summer out on the river, and we’d just lay our clothes out on the rocks to dry in the sun.”

“I don’t think we’ll be finding any river rocks to dry these,” Keith confessed, holding up a sopping wet blue shirt. “Bit cold outside, too.”

“You think? I can never tell in the suit,” Lance confessed. “What do you think our odds of survival are if we walked outside in nothing but our birthday suits.”

“We have  _underwear on_ . We aren’t  _heathens_ ,” Keith said, though the idea had him flushing red—or rather, _purple_. He reminded himself that he hated going commando, and being half-naked was just as terrible. He was surprised he survived the embarrassment of walking down here. 

_Just say what’s on your mind. That’s how people talk_ .

“And honestly I hate not wearing a shirt.”

“Really?” Lance said, and the surprise had Keith’s eyebrows raising. Keith looked up at Lance, who was now staring at him in confusion. “But—”

“But what? It’s not that weird. I just don’t like having my nips to the wind, you know what I’m saying?” Keith said, and Lance looked like he was about to hurl, but instead burst into giggles. 

“Oh my God, I wish I could have recorded that. New ringtone:  _Puh-lease_ .”

“I’m serious! And I don’t really think about scars as they’re being made. But now I have so many of them it’s kind of hard for people to ignore it,” Keith went on.

“Well, I have a big-ass scar on my back, but you don’t see me complaining about it.”

“Okay, well, people aren’t looking at your back if you aren’t facing them,” Keith retorted, only to stop at the horror on Lance’s face. “Oh my God,” Keith sighed, rubbing a wet hand over his eyes. “Ignore me. I never said anything.”

“I have a good ass?” Lance yelped, voice squeaky and high-pitched. He stood up a little and twisted around. Keith dropped his eyes immediately to the bucket.

“Put that away,” he demanded, raising a hand as if blocking the sunlight. 

“Compliment my ass again, Keith!” Lance shouted, holding his tablet up.

“ _No!_ Sit the fuck down,” Keith said, snapping his wet shirt at Lance. He nicked lance in the bare thigh and left a flaming hot welt in its place. “ _Shit!_ ”

“Holy mother of  _God_ !” Lance screamed, collapsing immediately. “Two scars! Make that two scars!”

Keith scrambled over, lifting Lance’s hand from the burn mark. Lance grunted, shoving him away. “Be gone, thot! Leave it alone!” he demanded, but wound up floundering around with Keith’s hands before collapsing with his arms over his eyes. “I’m gonna die…”

“You are not. We’ll just… find an infirmary. Get a cooling gel or something,” Keith suggested. He lunged to his feet and jumped over Lance’s body. “I’ll be right back.”

As Keith ran off, Lance cried, “Where are you going?! Are you abandoning me?!” only to realize that Keith was just grabbing one of the automated laundry carts. He dragged it over against its will—the track was  _that way_ , it was saying—and held it still as Lance flopped into it. The instant Keith let go of the edge, it snapped away from him, dragging Lance off to the warehouse doors. 

“Fuck! Oh shit!” Keith screamed, frantically fishing their clothes out of the water. He slopped them on the ground and told them to “stay the fuck there until we get back” before grabbing their weapons and chasing after Lance and the getaway cart. Lance was screaming like a goddamn banshee, wailing and floundering his arms before ducking to escape out of the facility cart doors. 

Keith slid out after him before the doors could snap his arm off. He skidded, hands still sopping wet, and sprinted after Lance and the cart. Lance moaned, “Help me!” in the most pitiful voice possible as Keith gained on the cart. It turned a corner and gave him just enough time to leap onto it.

His speed and force sent the cart off the tracks. They went spiraling, screaming all the way. Thankfully, the halls were only manned by automatons this far down, and so no amount of yelling would disrupt a soul. 

Keith settled in the cart, gasping, eyes wide in horror. Lance stared at him from the opposite side of the cart before breaking into a grin.

“Your eyes are jaundice again,” he said, and Keith could have given him a black eye instead of just a welt.

There was no simple way to finding the infirmary, much the same as how they couldn’t find the laundry without interrogating the people around the building. They followed the cart as far as it went—it took the elevator to the seventh floor and they ditched it before they could wind up in a stranger’s sleeping quarters. Lance was limping as they walked, so Keith swept an arm under Lance’s to take some of the weight off of Lance’s leg.

They stopped an Olkari on the eighth floor and inquired about the infirmary. They directed Lance and Keith across the open lift atrium, down two floors, and at the base of the stairs. There, they found a nurse helping an elderly Olkari get to the elevators. The nurse directed them to an empty room not unlike a regular doctor’s office, except for the minimal furniture that was retracted from the walls when they entered. Among them, a panel on the wall pulled out, flipped, and settled back in. A poster now rested on it.

Keith stared at it, and then at Lance, who saw the exact same thing. 

“I’ll go get the gel,” the Olkari nurse declared, and stepped out of the room.

The instant the door shut, Lance whispered, “Fuck, Keith, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Keith nodded slowly, stepping up to the poster. He perched a hand beneath his chin and studied it. Upon closer examination, he indicated a contact number. 

“What planet uses the word  _‘Jedi’_ ?” he asked, turning back to Lance. He pointed to the number. “It says we can call them.”

“It could just be a generic term,” Lance insisted.

“ _Or_ , it could be an actual Jedi,” Keith said. He held up his tablet to scan the contact code. “I’m calling them.”

“What? Dude, no, don’t call them,” Lance begged, stifling his laughter as Keith put his tablet to his ear and paced away from the poster. 

Keith rose an eyebrow at Lance as he waited for the busy signal to subside. Lance put both hands on his forehead and stared in horror as a sound clicked on the tablet, and a voice answered the phone. The translator kicked in and relayed the following: “ _Hello, this is the Jedi Service Center. How may I assist?_ ”

Lance slammed his fist on the table and gasped. Keith held a finger up to him, effectively silencing his shenanigans. “Hi, I was wondering if you could tell me what the application process is to join your organization?” he asked.

Lance nearly exploded. He burst out in a fit of mad hissing, “You can’t just  _become a Jedi_ —!”

“ _Of course! Training courses begin every sixth cycle on Corellia. Unfortunately we’ve already accepted all the students the course can hold, but if you give me your name I can put you on the waitlist._ ”

“Excuse me—Did you say  _Corellia?_ ” Keith said, beyond astonished. He stared at Lance, who turned ashen white. The woman confirmed it. “If you don’t mind me asking, could you tell me a little more about your Jedi organization?”

“ _We train pilots, sir, for the Empire._ ”

“You’re kidding. That’s exactly what I’m looking for,” Keith said. “Put my name down—Han Solo. That’s H-A-N—”

Lance was on the ground laughing by the time Keith finished signing up for the Jedi flight class waitlist. Keith put a hand over his mouth to keep from gawking, staring ahead as Lance combusted on the floor. Lance slammed his fist repeatedly on the ground, visibly crying. “I—I can’t believe—that actually  _happened_ .”

“Why does a nurse have an Empire fighter pilot poster on her wall?” Keith asked, and instantly Lance sobered, staring up at Keith, and then at the poster. 

They were both staring at the Jedi poster when the door opened again. Both Lance and Keith froze, and  _boy_ , were they a sight. They were both still in nothing but their underwear. Lance was still on the ground, and so the nurse shrieked and asked if he was alright, only to be faced with two furious paladins with their weapons out and aimed at her.

She put a hand over her heart, staggering to the door. “What happened! What’s going on!” she cried in alarm, shrieking as Keith stepped up to her, grabbing her by the front of her tunic, and putting the knife to her throat. She whimpered, chin up, dropping the gel bottle immediately. “P-Please—”

He directed his sword to the poster and said with a strained smile, “Mind telling me why you have an Empire poster hanging on the wall?”

She blinked, startled, and stared at the Jedi poster. She gasped in relief. “Oh stars—No, our lead practitioner had a son who went to flight school there. He’s with Voltron.”

Lance let his bayard down, slumping on the ground with a mortified, “Aye yai yai…”

Keith let his Marmora blade phase down and he lowered it to his side. “Oh. Then never mind,” he said. He bent down and picked up the gel. “This should do. We’ll just… be going now. Lance.”

Lance was back on his feet, swaying and heading for the door. Keith clapped him on the back before waving to the nurse. “Sorry… about that,” he apologized awkwardly and shut the door behind them. 

They walked a ways before Keith thought to hand the gel to Lance. Lance took it and sighed. “It doesn’t even hurt all that much anymore,” he confessed, looking up to Keith, who halted in the hallway and stared at him.

They stared at one another until Keith snatched the gel, ripped open the cap, and squeezed some out onto his hand. “Fucking use it anyways,” he said, slapping it directly onto Lance’s thigh where the welt burned. 

Lance clenched his entire face up and emitted a strained, but contained groan of agony. He shut his eyes and stood there, taking the pain and all until he could at last gasp for air. Slowly, he lowered down and pressed a hand over the now-slimy welt as Keith shut the bottle cap and started walking again. Keith shook out his shoulders and arms before stretching them high and wishing for another dip in the pool. It was starting to get warm again.

Lance limped after him, saying, “You know, despite all the mental and physical abuse, I’m kind of disappointed that we haven’t hung out until now. It’s been fun.”

“ _Been_ fun? What happened to laundry cart surfing?” Keith asked, turning back to raise an eyebrow at Lance, who hesitated before picking up the pace again.

“For one, my leg is now  _killing me_ ,” he said, “so if I go ham now I might  _tear_ a hamstring. Carry me?”

“No. Lance—” 

It was too late, Lance was already slumping forward, and with the way he was falling, Keith panicked. He’d hit the ground if Keith didn’t do something. He leapt forward and let Lance scramble to catch his arms around Keith’s neck. They stumbled and staggered into the wall. Lance let all his bodyweight drop. 

They froze in the hallway as one of the nurses passed them. Keith smiled innocently before scowling down at Lance, who was pouting up at him. “You’re being ridiculous. How are we doing this?”

“Princess style?”

“What does that mean.”

“Just… carry me…” Lance moaned, and it gave Keith the distinct impression that Lance had done this before to Hunk.

He forced Lance to stand up straight so that he could duck down and sweep Lance’s legs out from under him. Lance whined some more before tiredly pressing his forehead to Keith’s neck. Keith lifted his chin up and sighed, grateful that his lungs weren’t failing him now. His legs might, later, but for now he could depend on them. 

What was really throwing him for a loop was the smell of the pool sanitation chemicals. It wasn’t quite chlorine, necessarily, but it had a hint of lemon in it and it peppered Lance’s hair like nothing else. And, so, Keith’s nose was drenched in the smell of it, and it did funny things to his brain. He blamed it on how fast his heart was beating as he walked them to the elevators.

In the elevator, Keith couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t stop  _smelling it_ . It smelled  _so fucking good_ . Like  _lemonade_ . God, did he miss lemonade. A nice homemade Arnold Palmer. Lance nestled his head against Keith’s shoulder and, as Keith looked down, stared quietly at the wall through lidded eyes. Lance parted his jaws and yawned. It  _had_ been a long day of traveling. Keith wouldn’t be surprised if they went back to the rooms and found Pidge, Hunk, and Allura conked out in their designated dorms.

“Keith?” Lance whispered. Keith hummed in acknowledgement. “Whatchya… Whatchya doin’?”

What  _was_ he doing? He blinked at the wall, and then to where he had his nose nestled in Lance’s hair.  _Fuck_ .

He leant away quickly, and started to put Lance down. Lance’s arms tightened around his neck, only to loosen when his bare feet touched the ground once more. “Sorry—God, that was weird. I—”

He never finished. The instant the elevator door opened, Keith was off, sprinting to his room. 

The instant he trapped himself behind the safety of his door, he expelled the breath he held from the elevator here. He gasped, panting, clutching at his head where the smell wouldn’t go away. He could smell the soap from the laundry buckets and the gel on his hands. It assaulted him in ways he couldn’t describe, because _it’d never happened before_ , at least, not like  _this_ . There was a time with his mother where everything smelled  _different_ , more vibrant, but it never lingered, and his sensitive olfactory faded after a while.

He clamped a hand over his nose and cursed, trying to block it out, but it was like the cacophony of smells were permanently seared into the inside of his nostrils. He cursed and turned to the mirror, only to halt at what Lance must have saw when he looked at Keith no more than a minute before.

His eyes were yellow, his skin a ghostly purple. He tugged at the skin beneath his eyes and stared in horror as his irises collapsed around his slitted pupils. He backed away and stumbled into the bed pod, clutching at his hair. He pushed his fingers into his mouth where his teeth had sharpened into fangs.

“ _No, no, no_ ,” he moaned.

He grabbed his pillow and threw it against the wall with a colorful, “ _Fuck!_ ” because how could he ever make or keep friends looking like  _this?_ He could try all he wanted but he’d always be a step away from Lance like this.

He waited as long as he possibly could. He sent a message to his mother asking to see her, but she hadn’t responded.  _They’ll be back from touring soon_ , he told himself, clutching at his chest. His lungs were collapsing again, overworked by his freak-out session.  _They’ll be back soon_ .

Keith fell asleep thinking this, and woke up to the warped sound of a gap opening in space. He was used to the sound, and the immediate sensation of being tackled overhead by a mass of fur, bones, and pure muscle. He grunted, the wind knocked out of him as Wolfie slammed into his chest and harrumphed between his legs. Wolfie pawed at Keith’s arms, pinning him to the bed. 

Keith laughed, truthfully relieved by Wolfie’s presence. He nestled his head into Wolfie’s mane. “Hey buddy,” he whispered against them, and pulled back to study their crystalline eyes. They blinked slowly, happily, right before punching Keith in the bare boob. “ _Ouch_ ! Hey, remember what we talked about,” he said, but Wolfie punched him again, tongue lolling.

He was rolling back on the bed, surrounded by fur, screaming, “ _We talked about this!_ ” when a knock sounded on his door. He sat up as best he could, pushing up onto his elbows before Wolfie tried to punch him again. He caught Wolfie by the paw and weaseled out from under them. He cursed as he hit the ground, and scrambled up to open the door.

He smacked his hand on the door panel, and instantly Krolia burst in, holding her tablet up.

“What is it! I came as fast as I could!” she cried, and stopped short at the sight of Keith half-on the floor, half-naked, and still half-galra. The door hissed shut as Keith groaned, pushing to his feet, surprised by his own exhaustion. Granted, he’d been awake for nearly twenty-four hours, but  _still_ .

“I was hoping… you might be able to explain  _this_ to me,” he confessed, gesturing to the purple, baring the sharpened canines.

His mother frowned, pocketing the tablet. She was often quiet, but this time, Keith took her silence as a bad sign.

She stepped forward and caught him under the chin. She squished his cheeks in and checked his eyes and teeth before pushing back his hair to check his ears. They were human, alright. “Have you been feeling off besides…?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged. “Smells linger. And…”

“And…?”

“I can’t…” he sighed, looking to the ceiling in hopes that some higher power would just strike him dead then and there. “I can’t  _breathe_ sometimes. I was hanging out with Lance earlier and every now and then my lungs would just sorta  _collapse_ .”

She stepped back and crossed her arms, pursing her lips as she shrugged. “Normal. It’ll pass in a few days. Though, it happened to me when I was younger and my hearing would flare up. Overall senses heightened.”

“What is it?” he asked, following her to the bed where she reached out to nuzzle her hand to Wolfie’s ears. 

She struggled for the word as she leaned a hand over the top of the pod. She glanced over at him and said, “I’m not sure what you would call it. Happens once in a while, no rhyme or reason. It used to be hooked to moon cycles, but once the Galra became a star-faring race the cycle shifted.”

“Moon cycles,” Keith repeated. Only one thing came to mind at that—once a month ordeal, hormone fluctuation, sensitive olfactory. “We have something like that on Earth, but only females get it. It has something to do with childbirth or lack thereof.”

“It is connected to that, in a way. All Galran genders are effected by it,” his mother explained. She studied his face as his brain went to the last place he wanted to consider. “It happens whens when your body is most fertile. Higher success of pregnancy.”

“But… I can’t…” he started, laying a hand flat over his bare stomach.

“No, no you can’t. Healthy baby human boy according to your father’s doctor,” she said, and Keith rolled his eyes, laughing in relief. “I can’t imagine the probability of what you could have been, though. You could have been any number of genders.”

“Okay, Mom, I get it—”

“Your father’s doctor would have  _lost their mind—_ ”

“ _Okay!_ Yeah, I get it,” he laughed, waving his hands desperately for her to shut up. She didn’t even have the audacity to smile, just merely looked smug from where she now sat on the edge of the pod petting Wolfie. Wolfie sat up and stared expectantly at Keith—a silent demand to get back in bed. “Will anything… weird happen while I’m in cycle?” Keith asked.

“Nothing that hasn’t happened already,” she promised. “You might be clingy, but it’s nothing to be alarmed about.”

He nodded mutely, looking to the blankets as his mother rose to leave. She laid a hand on his shoulder, gave him a squeeze, before drifting to the door. “Goodnight,” he said. 

“Good night, Keith.”


	3. 1.3 || Resisting Impulses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith hurts and Lance knows just what he needs (or does he?).
> 
> This just in: Pidge creates a conspiracy theory without realizing it—and it's _real_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *flops around* GAH! Y'ALL ARE CRAZY I STARTED POSTING THREE DAYS AGO AND YOUR ENTHUSIASM HAS MY BRAIN GOIN' BONKERS OVER HERE !!

Keith couldn’t move in the morning. Everything  _ached_ .

He groaned, muffling it in Wolfie’s fur. They always smelled like  _ice_ , like the sensation Keith used to get chewing minty gum in the winter. Likewise, the smell left Keith’s nose numb to anything else in the room, and he took that as a blessing because by  _God_ , he could feel  _everything_ . He swear he could feel his pinkie toenail.

He wiggled his feet and stretched his arms up over his head. With a strained yawn, Keith decided that he had to get up despite his body’s protests. 

As soon as he did, he regretted it.

“Fuck,” he swore, hissing at the pain sloshing his skull. His mind was goo and his skull was the bowl containing it. He was two nanoseconds away from oozing brain goo through his ears. Even after several minutes of standing and waiting for the pain to pass, it only faded slightly. 

_You just need food_ , his mind rationalized. 

He went to the door with Wolfie on his heels. The moment the doors hissed open, his foot stepped onto something soft lying on the floor. He lifted up his foot and looked down. Lance’s clothes.

Bending down to get them was a task, but he did it anyways in favor of dressing up. He stopped at the open door, looking both ways down the hall. Lance had to have dropped them off, unless someone in the facility saw them go down to the laundry warehouse.

He took it as a good sign, but it didn’t stop him from flushing and fretting over how they left things off the previous day. How could he have done that? Keith always assumed he had excellent self-control, but  _that?_ That was unacceptable. He couldn’t believe he went and  _sniffed Lance’s fucking hair._ Not only that, but he was called out for it.

If he sniffed Lance’s hair yesterday, who knew what he’d do today. What if he  _hugged someone?_ They’d put him in the mental institution for sure.

The only way he could defend himself from his own body was to force himself to remain cross-armed until the day he died. He did so all the way to the commissary on the ground level, searching for the team. There, he found them gathered at one of the raised tables with trays of food before them. Keith hesitated at the columns framing the entrance of the commissary. He debated turning back and waiting for them all to leave, but it was too late—his mother already spotted him.

She waved from the table, and the rest of the team turned to stare.

“Fuck me,” he sighed, aware of the surprise on all of their faces. It was all directed at his yellow eyes and purple skin. 

Eventually, he approached the end of the table with an awkward smile. “Hey guys,” he said.

“Hey yourself,” Pidge said, grinning. “Lance won’t say it so I will—You look good like that.” 

Keith narrowed his eyes at her as Lance reached over the table to smack his hands across Pidge’s head. Pidge fended him off, giggling, as Krolia leaned towards Keith. “Why don’t you get something to eat? You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I feel like it,” he confessed. “Headache.”

Krolia slipped out of her chair and pulled it out for Keith. “Sit,” she demanded, and glared sternly at him until he complied. “I’ll get you food.”

As his mother walked off, Keith slumped forward, arms still folded together. He pressed his forehead to his arms and groaned. Hunk patted him on the back, and it just made everything worse. The sensation of someone  _touching him_ sent a shudder up his spine, and immediately his instincts flashed into play. He swung his arm back and slapped Hunk’s arm away, only to revel in the horror of what he had just done. 

“Shit, sorry,” Keith blurted out. “Oh my God, I didn’t mean to—”

“Dude, it’s fine. It’s been a while—I forgot you don’t like being touched,” Hunk said with a reassuring smile, but Keith was withering. 

“No, it’s just… everything’s a bit sensitive today,” he confessed, gesturing to the invisible bubble around him. “My head is  _killing me_ .”

“Here, drink some water,” Allura offered, sliding a glass across the table surface. Keith reached for it like a desperate man, and guzzled it in a matter of seconds. He nearly went off in search of more, but Hunk stood before he had the chance and offered to get some. Keith was too startled to properly thank him, and only managed to do so when Hunk returned with a jug of water to refill Keith’s empty glass. 

Krolia returned not long after, and Keith filled his aching stomach past the point of hunger nausea. He waited for the sick-feeling to pass, and eventually, it did. His head felt significantly better on top of that, and he could actually concentrate on what the table was talking about.

Lance’s arms were flailing. He grabbed the air and, fist extended, described the way Keith put his knife to the nurse’s throat and asked, “ _‘Why the hell do you have Empire propaganda on your wall?_ ’” to which Keith squeaked, “I didn’t swear!”

Lance looked at him as if just realizing Keith was there. Keith swallowed hard, reminded of what he did last night. God, the sheer amount of  _lemons_ . Keith thought he might vomit.

Thankfully, Pidge leaned out from around Hunk and snorted. “I wouldn’t put it pass you to swear at an innocent little nurse.”

“I’m not a heathen,” Keith argued with a pout.

“I don’t know—I’m on Pidge’s side,” his mother confessed, leaning back with her arms crossed. Seeing the action reminded Keith about his plan for the day. His arms were slumped on the table, taking up the elbow room of everyone around him. He shrunk his arms in and folded them over his chest self-consciously.

As he did so, Lance regaled them all, albeit a bit hesitantly, on how they were planning on laundry cart racing.  _Planning on_ . That was still in the book? Keith quirked an eyebrow at Lance, but Lance wasn’t looking at him. The lemon soured on Keith’s tongue.

“Laundry cart racing?” Coran repeated with a low whistle. “Really brings back the good ol’ days. My buddies and I would rig the hover engines and see whose modifications pushed them the fastest.”

“That sounds like fun,” Pidge confessed, perking up, only to wilt at the stern look Allura gave her. “But… we have things to do. Right.”

“Maybe next time,” Allura promised, as though you could hinge anything on a ‘maybe’.

The trio of engineers and tech-noobs let the table shortly after, and Allura followed after them. Keith watched them all walk off, and glanced back at Pidge as she stepped around behind him. She raised a hand up and patted it softly on his shoulder as a mutual I-feel-you-buddy understanding. Keith slumped further in his seat, and put a hand to his forehead, disguising the view of the team walking off.

“This is so embarrassing,” Keith sighed to his mother, only to realize that there was still one other person at the table watching him. He flushed a deep purple and tugged Lance’s shirt up to his chin.

“I dunno. I think it’s kinda cool,” Lance confessed.

“It’s normal,” Krolia offered.

“Thanks,” Keith bit out in a very unthankful manner. “I’m leaving.”

He slipped out of his seat and grabbed his tray on the way out. Lance blinked in alarm, and managed a quick, “What about—?” that Keith dismissed with a wave of his hand. He hurried to the conveyer belt of dirty dishes. He grabbed some extra food off of the assembly line and the instant Wolfie warped to his side, tossed the food for the pup to eat.

Wolfie accompanied Keith to his room, only to stand firm outside the door. “What, you’re ghosting me now?” Keith whined, gesturing firmly towards the pod. Wolfie plopped their bum onto the ground. “Fine. Ignore me,” Keith snapped, and slammed his hand on the door panel. The doors shut immediately.

He huffed and paced away from the door. He continued sulking before at last expelling all his energy into collapsing on the bed and screaming into his pillow. After swiftly flipping over and scowling at the ceiling, the frustration of being  _weird_ and  _different_ nearly pushed him to tears. He shoved a pillow over his face and groaned. He went through puberty  _once_ already, so why did he have to deal with this now, in space of all places?

Despite the pillows muffling the sounds surrounding him, he couldn’t ignore the sound of someone knocking on his door. He sighed, lowering the pillow to glower at the door. “What do you want!” he shouted. 

“ _Just me!_ ” Lance called back, muffled through the door.

_Dear Lord save me_ , Keith moaned internally, curling onto his side. At this rate he’d lose his mind for sure.

Still, he got to his feet. He wasn’t about to be a dick and ignore Lance like he desperately wanted to, at least until the cycle was over. He should have found a better hiding spot. He could have done a million other things to prevent Lance from finding him, but he decided to come here instead. The one place in this entire facility Lance was sure-as-hell going to find Keith at. 

_Maybe you want to be found_ , Keith’s mind supplied helpfully as the door opened.

Lance’s wide, blue eyes were on Keith immediately. He smiled, no matter how hesitant (or uncomfortable) he looked as he stepped closer to the threshold of Keith’s room. “Hey. I just wanted to make sure you’re feeling okay. You weren’t looking so great at breakfast.”

“I’m—”  _Don’t lie to potential friends_ . “—just paranoid,” he confessed, inhaling sharply through his nose. Big mistake. He could tell Lance showered that morning, and the fact that  _he could tell_ was more than a little alarming. “I probably shouldn’t be around people right now.”

“Why not?”

“I’m afraid—”  _Of losing control_ . “—of my impulses. I’m not used to feeling… fragile,” he said, reaching a hand up to scratch at his hair. He’d been staring at Lance’s chest until then, and managed to drag his eyes up to Lance’s. 

Lance’s brow was tense, and his concern pushed dangerously at Keith’s collapsing lungs. He sucked in a deep breath before he could lose all respiratory function.

“Krolia sort of equated it to human periods,” Lance blurted out, as if Keith wasn’t already blushing. “Dude, I have a younger sister—I know exactly what you need.”

“What?”

Lance reached over and grabbed Keith’s hand out of his hair. He hauled Keith towards the door and down the hall. “Where are we going?” Keith exclaimed, stumbling after Lance.

They stopped at the railing where a lift descended from the Heavens. A gust of wind nearly pushed them over, but Lance held firmly to Keith’s arms and gave him a good shake. “ _The infirmary_ ,” he said, as if that answered all of Keith’s questions. So, evidently, Lance’s sister liked to go to the doctor when she was on her period? Good to know.

Despite how much Keith  _really_ didn’t want to go to the infirmary, Lance tugged him along. They arrived at the nurse’s office and knocked hastily on the door. When they answered pale faced and more or less frightened, Lance held a hand up in surrender.

“Just here to chat,” he insisted. The nurse tugged the door a bit closer to closing, so Lance nudged his foot in the crack. “Do you by chance have any heat pads?”

Heat was the last thing Keith wanted right about then, but he decided to humor Lance. The nurse fetched a cloth heat pad and tossed it in an oven of sorts. As it cooked away, Keith and Lance stood in the hallway together—Keith, trying to cross his arms, and Lance, still latched onto one of Keith’s wrists.

Lance turned to Keith, and Keith’s sheer force of will couldn’t prevent him from looking back. Lance smiled encouragingly. There went Keith’s lungs again.

When the heat pad was obtained, Lance marched Keith straight back up to his room where he forced Keith onto the bed with a firm shove of his shoulders. Wolfie was nowhere in sight, but Keith wished they were—maybe Wolfie could defend his honor against Lance’s aggressive man-handling.

The heat pad was slapped onto Keith’s abdomen.

Lance settled back, hands on his hips. “There,” he said, entirely too proud of himself. Keith stared at him in confusion, and then back down to the heat pad. He put a hand over it and felt sweat starting to collect under his shirt. The heat spread like fire, licking up all the way through his chest and to his cheeks, reminding him that he couldn’t  _breathe_ .

“This isn’t work,” Keith sighed, tipping his head back.

“What? Why not? Aren’t you cramping?”

“What? No! No, I’m not  _cramping_ . I don’t have a fucking uterus.”

Lance frowned at him, and then down to Keith’s lack of a womb. Keith groaned, hand over his eyes. “Now I’m just sweaty,” he complained. “I’ve been feeling like the world is on fire lately. It stopped for a little while when we went swimming but—”

He stopped, and turned to stare at Lance. “Dude, let’s go swimming again,” he said, already tossing the heat pad off. He swung his legs over the edge of the pod and hopped to his feet. Lance chased after him, stammering, and debating snatching the pad again.

“But—! But won’t you, like, bleed everywhere?” Lance squeaked in semi-horror. Keith turned to him in the hallway and slapped him in the chest.

“No, you moron. I said I don’t have a uterus! You’d think I’d know that by now,” he said. “I’m hot, sweaty, and I need to get out of these clothes.”

“Wow, that was… very forward.”

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith seethed, blistering at the sight of Lance’s pink cheeks. Keith threw his arms up in frustration and stormed towards the central atrium. Lance chased after him, but as soon as he did, Keith started sprinting. Lance called after him, but nothing could stop him. He was on a freight train to nowhere and leaving everything on his mind behind.

Running sent a thrill through Keith’s veins that no amount of mental agony could. His hair flew back from his forehead as he ran, arms pumping, feet passing hard and fast from corridor to corridor. He skidded around the corner, narrowly dodging an incoming worker who screamed in surprise, only to be assaulted by Lance several seconds later. Lance slammed into them with a shout of alarm, profusely apologizing as he twirled around the collision sight and went onwards.

Lance skidded to a halt in the middle of the now-empty hallway.

“Shit,” he sighed, hands on his hips, panting hard. He scratched a hand to his head and turned all around, but Keith had vanished.

 

* * *

 

“Galra cycles last for a little over a week,” Krolia explained to the team. They were in an atrium where the teludav tech was stored, and Allura was perched on a mechanical cart beside her, listening intently. “The cycles fade after your first childbirth. I haven’t had one since Keith.”

“Are they synchronized?” Pidge asked from her computer, glancing over the edge to where Allura tipped her head to the side.

“Synchronized? What do you mean?”

“Human menstrual cycles tend to sync with the people you’re around frequently—if they go through a period, I mean,” she explained with a roll of her eyes. “Galra cycles could function the same way.”

“They all happen at the same time,” Krolia explained, to which Pidge’s eyebrows shot up, and Allura’s attention returned to Keith’s mother in surprise. “Right now the younger half of the Empire is likely experiencing what Keith is, albeit slightly less subdued. This is just assuming the half of the Galra who haven’t gone through childbirth are still experiencing cycles. It may fade with time, I’m unsure myself.”

“Does this mean Kolivan goes through cycles?” Hunk asked, and giggled. “Oh, man, that’d be wild.”

“Yes, he still does,” Krolia confessed. “He hasn’t found a mate. The Galra tend to sway towards one life-time partner. Kolivan’s died on a mission ages ago before they could start a family.”

At this, the team fell silent. Hunk apologized for bringing it up, and Krolia merely shrugged. It meant nothing to her, not in the same way it did for Kolivan. 

Allura tapped a finger to her chin, deep in thought. No, they couldn’t exploit Galra biology in the war. That wasn’t how they were going to win this. Still, it was interesting to learn about. Allura had been too young to catch wind of such talk before the war started. “Altean biology has nothing like that, as far as I can tell,” she confessed aloud.

“I swear you and your entire race are just the perfect species,” Pidge whined, slapping her hands over her face. She threw her arms up with a cry of distress. “No  _periods!_ No  _cycles!_ ”

“Well, at least you humans don’t get the slipperies!” Coran offered from the far side of the atrium. The entire lot of them moaned at the mention of it, all except Krolia, who asked, “What are those?”

As they went back to work, Pidge couldn’t help but fall into a spiral of  _wondering_ . How many Galra did they face in the middle of their cycles? How many aliens in general went through menstral cycles? It seemed biology made species suffer across the universe for the sake of reproduction. It was an unfortunate consequence of living in a universe void of complete immortality. A universe founded on immortality would mean that minimal reproduction would be necessary—the biological need to reproduce would be irrelevant.

_Couldn’t I have been born in a universe where biology didn’t control my uterus?_ she wondered to herself.  _Or anyone else’s for that matter. What if it could be, like, a switch?_

Considering that, and the other species and Galra they encountered, she briefly considered the chances of Lotor having been in a cycle just a day before that. 

She shuddered.

Best not to think about that.

 

* * *

 

Keith was just approaching the training arena when a warp opened in front of him, and he collided with Wolfie in the entrance to the arena. He collapsed  _hard_ on the ground, narrowly avoiding crashing his skull into the floor as Wolfie pinned him by the shoulders. 

He groaned and craned his head away from Wolfie’s tongue. “Alright, alright. You win this time. Now  _off_ ,” he demanded, but Wolfie would do no such thing.

Keith succumbed to his sentence of being Wolfie’s personal dog bed. His sentence lasted approximately ten minutes before they were interrupted by a fast set of footsteps heading their way. He recognized the sound of Lance’s heavy breathing as he tipped his head back and watched Lance approach, hands on his hips, leaning over Keith. Lance scowled down at him.

“Running is my least favorite thing to do, especially in this atmosphere,” he said threateningly.

He reached down and scratched Wolfie’s ears. “Thanks for catching him for me,” he cooed to Wolfie, who slapped their tail  _hard_ on Keith’s calf. 

Keith grunted, curling to the side. He shoved Wolfie off as he said, “So  _you’re_ the one who sent the hound.”

“I totally did. Aren’t you proud of me?” Lance said, and giggled when Wolfie butted their head into Lance’s hip. “Aw, they like me!”

“What did you pay ‘em in?”

“Commissary snacks,” Lance confessed, crouching down to nestle his forehead against Wolfie’s. He cooed and cuddled the cosmic wolf as Keith slumped ahead through the training arena door.

The training room lights all illuminated at once, circling the arena and directing Keith to the equipment panel. He pushed inside and filtered through all of the weaponry before at last reaching something that resembled a floatie. He yanked it out from the back and chucked it through the panel gap. Lance had been approaching, and was effectively slapped in the face by the rubber floatie.

“Oh God!” he cried, catching it and holding it up. Shortly after, he was assaulted by a second floatie before Keith emerged once more from the equipment panel.

Keith more or less stormed rather than walked towards Lance, jabbing a finger at the center of the training arena. “Put the floaties on the ground.”

“Alright! Alright, geez. Aye-aye, officer,” Lance said with a mocking salute before chucking the floaties across the room. “Now what?”

“Start the water,” Keith demanded, directing Lance to the control room. Keith began stripping as Lance headed for the stairs. He caught the clothes Keith threw at him, and dumped them in the control room before heading to the wall filled with mechanisms for the arena. Below, he watched Keith plop into one of the floaties and wait for the tides to come in. Wolfie stood over Keith, ignorant to what lie ahead.

“Here goes nothing,” Lance hummed before starting the waterfall and bypassing the authorization button.

The instant the water began pouring down, Wolfie zapped out of there and disappeared to God knows where. Keith became obscured by the torrential downpour of pool water washing into the arena. The walls closed in to the shape of a pool, lifting Keith up off the arena floor and towards the surface as the water sputtered out and left the floaties swaying on the waves. 

Keith held a thumbs up to Lance, who remained in the control room watching from afar. Keith closed his eyes and tipped his head back. All he needed was a pair of sunglasses and a lemonade, and he’d be back on Earth. Lance smiled to himself as he reached back and pulled his shirt overhead, followed by his pants and shoes. He tossed them into a pile beside Keith’s clothes before heading up to the second floor of the arena.

Lance hurried up to lean over the railing, beaming down at Keith, who waved from the floatie. “Hurry up, slowpoke!” Keith shouted, hands cupped around his mouth.

Lance braced his hands on the railing and hefted a foot up onto the edge. Keith whistled from down below, and Lance flipped him off as he slowly rose to his full height atop the skinny railing. He put his hands up in the air, pose triumphant, and pronounced, “ _THE RED PALADIN HAS ARRIVED!_ ”

“Fuck off—I’m the original!” Keith shouted back. Lance responded by vaulting off the ledge with the grace of a born swimmer. He straightened his legs, hooked them forward to touch his toes to his fingertips, before snapping back out for a dive.

He hooked beneath the water, slicing through the waves with hardly a splash at all. He reemerged near Keith’s floatie, and swam over, brushing water from his eyes. Keith stretched a hand out for a high-five. “Nice one.”

“How many stars?” Lance asked, draping his arms over the edge of Keith’s floatie. His forearms pressed to Keith’s calves.

“At least seven stars.”

“ _Seven?_ ”

“Eight if you woulda flipped. Thought you were gonna, but then you half-assed it,” he explained. Lance rolled his eyes, muttering, “Everybody’s a critic…” as he looked out across the arena and paddled his legs.

He scissored his legs to and fro, directing traffic down the length of the pool and back. They passed the extra floatie, but Lance stuck to the end of Keith’s, and swept them around in circles, pumping his legs as he went. He hummed some nonsensical tune, and as the air filled with steam from the pool, Keith swayed his head to and fro and drifted his hands to the music like a true composer.

Eventually, they merely listened to the sloshing of water trailing behind Lance’s feet as it echoed across the arena. Keith cleared his throat. 

“You think Earth changed a lot since we left?” he asked, tipping his head to look down at Lance, who shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’m trying not to think about it.”

“What if… everyone’s gone when we get back?”

Lance fell silent. He thought about it enough to know talking about it made it too real to ignore. He looked out at the wall and muttered, “I try not to think about it.”

“Time dilation—”

“Not thinking about it,” he sang with more conviction, pumping his legs harder. “Maybe Beyonce’s president—we won’t know until we get there.”

Keith snorted and kicked his foot out at Lance. He pushed Lance by the forehead with it. Lance giggled, crying, “What! It could happen!”

Rather than answer, Keith took to the side, tipping off the floatie, and slopping into the pool. He let the cool liquid consume him, lapping around him until all the heat soaked away and was flushed over with chilly water. He swayed to the surface, eyes closed, lungs expanding. He expelled a deep breath and sighed:

“I’m done swimming.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get pruny,” Lance confessed, waving a hand in front of his face. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against his forefinger and held it out to Keith.

“But I’m still hot,” Keith admitted with a pout. He straightened and furrowed his brow at Lance. “We should do something that has, like, a  _breeze_ but minimal effort.”

“Like laundry cart racing?”

“No, that’s effort,” he cried with a distressed moan. “I don’t want to  _move_ …”

Lance hummed, swimming over to the ledge where Keith had drifted. He ducked down beneath the surface and reemerged with soaked hair and bright eyes. “Okay, I’ve got it,” Lance declared. He pressed his hands firmly onto the ledge. He pushed himself up, muscles straining, and Keith marveled at Lance’s biceps. Before Keith could start both cursing and praising God, Lance was on his feet and turning a sopping hand out to Keith. “Shall we?” Lance asked with a smug grin.

Keith stared at Lance’s outstretched hand before hesitantly slipping his own over Lance’s calloused, pruny fingers. They worked together to heave Keith out of the pool and onto his weary feet.

Together, they made a break for the control room. As Lance hurried to shut down and drain the pool, Keith was already half-dressed and eager to get moving. His nerves were tied up and shocking his energy levels. He was wide-awake and ready for action after a cool dip in the pool, and he wanted to ride that wave until it ended. 

Keith couldn’t hardly wait for Lance—he dashed out of the room before Lance could even articulate the plan aloud. “Hey! Wait—Oh, fuck it,” Lance said, abandoning the control room. He grabbed his clothes and raced out after Keith, struggling to jump into his pants and shoes. He dressed as he half-jogged half-tripped down the hallway after Keith. 

Running put a breeze through Keith’s damp hair, coursing a cool wind down his spin and through the cotton of Lance’s shirt. He pushed harder, faster, feeling  _alive_ . He threw his arms in the air and hollered at nothing in particular with a leap in his step. Lance shouted back, and they hooted like a pack of wolves making a getaway from the crime—the crime being a half-filled, unauthorized pool in the training room. Keith couldn’t imagine the looks on the workers’ faces the next time they’d step through the training arena doors.

Lance caught up with Keith, laughing, pulling him by the arm to the left at the intersection. Keith staggered after him, laughing, free arm pinwheeling as he caught his balance. 

Around the corner, they staggered to a halt at the center atrium railing—where the lift pitched all the way to the top floor. It sent a vacuum of air tugging Keith’s hair forward. He pushed it out of his eyes and stared up after the lift, before turning to Lance’s devious grin.

“You’re kidding,” Keith gasped. 

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Lance said, tipping his nose and chin up, hands on his hips. It meant releasing Keith’s arm where a patch of heat began to spread through his entire being. He flushed purple as he looked back at the lift. “Elevator to the top floor, hop on the lift as it’s descending. What do you say?”

Keith could already feel the air flooding around him, dense like the pool water, punching the air from his lungs and spiking his adrenaline. He wanted it so badly that it ached in his breathless lungs. 

“Yes,” he gasped out, and turned to head for the elevator. 

They traveled around the circumference of the atrium, and slipped into the elevator corridor like they had something to hide from the rest of the facility. Keith slammed the elevator panel repeatedly until it opened, and then spun inside the instant the gap was wide enough. Lance followed after him and shut the elevator door, pitching them to the top floor. Keith glanced over at Lance, the silence doing little to quiet the excitement on both their countenances. 

Lance’s shirt was soaked through the front from pool water, his sweats no better. His hair was slicked back, damp, all except for the fringe over his forehead. Keith’s heart throbbed in his throat. He knew what he wanted to do, but it took a severe amount of self-control to keep his arms crossed. Lance was his teammate. They were just becoming good friends. He nearly ruined it the night before with thoughts like that.

Lance’s smile faded. “You look worried. We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to,” he said firmly. 

“Then what is it? Is the headache back?”

“No, it isn’t that.” He pegged Lance with wide, calculating eyes. How much could he say? Were they ever going to address what happened the night before? If that hadn’t ruined their friendship, then what more could he do? With that in mind, he sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “Resisting impulses is all.”

Lance blinked owlishly, and  _God_ , did he have massive eyes. His pupils were the size of a pin in that brightly lit elevator. “Do you… mind if I ask what they are?”

Keith looked to his feet, scuffing his shoes on the tiles. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, brows furrowing. “Last night,” he started, and never finished. He said enough for Lance to remember. 

The elevator door opened then, and while Keith moved to step out, Lance remained frozen. Keith looked back at him, unable to meet his gaze. “C’mon. The lift’s probably leaving soon,” he said, nodding to the atrium ledge.

As soon as Keith approached the railing, the lift began lowering. It was a slow start-up process, but it was enough to kick his heart back into gear. He grabbed hold of the pillar attached to the railing and heaved himself up. He leaned out to see over the top of the lift for the mechanism that stopped it several feet from the very peak of the roof—a pole stretched up on a funneled top. They’d hold onto it to the very bottom. 

“Lance!” Keith shouted back.

“Coming!” Lance said, hurrying up. 

Lance steadied on the edge of the railing, and looked frantically at Keith, who grinned. “What, chicken?” Keith goaded, grinning madly as Lance’s competitive nature took over.

“No way! Let’s go!” he said, and the instant the funnel top was at their level, Lance was flinging himself onto it, hands gripping the center pole. Keith lunged out, sneakers gripping the slick top as he grappled for purchase on the pole. They held onto opposite sides of the pole, staring at one another as gravity lifted.

Keith clenched his hands so tightly that his fingers cramped and his knuckles burned. Their screams followed in a funneling echo down the lift’s column surrounded by a spiral of railings, and facility workers there to witness it all. Works crowded the railings to watch as the lift dropped past, carrying two humans screaming with it. Within the first few seconds, their clothes were completely dry.

The instant the lift began to slow, Keith raised his head up to meet Lance’s eyes, dazed and more or less satisfied with cheating death (once again). Lance gasped in amazement, laughing almost guiltily as he looked out at the railing where an Olkari worker shouted at them to “get off the lift!”

“Sorry! We’ll be right down!” Keith promised, and would have waved amicably, but his arms no longer functioned properly. He channeled all his energy into unlatching his hands from the pole, and wincing at the crick in each of his joints. 

He slid from the funnel top and dropped onto unsteady legs once they reached the very bottom of the lift. He walked over to where Lance was moaning for help, and promised to catch him.

Lance slid from the roof and staggered against Keith, clutching onto Keith’s shoulders as he regained balance and motion and his  _mind_ , really. Their hair was in a disarray, all fluff and volume from the chemicals in the pool merged with the universe’s greatest blowdryer. 

They stared at one another as one of the workers clamored down the stairs to give them a stern talking-to. All at once, Keith and Lance burst into a mad fit of laughter, collapsing over their knees with tears in their eyes.

“—First the pool yesterday, and now  _this!_ ” the worker was crying, and at the mention of  _yesterday’s_ pool incident, Keith figured it’d be better for the lot of them that they just skedaddled before news about the pool  _today_ came through.

“Won’t happen again,” he promised. “One-time thing.”

“Uh-huh, yup, one-time thing,” Lance said, nudging Keith with his elbow. The worker eyed them both suspiciously before escorting them off the loading docks.

Lance and Keith hurried up the steps past the worker, and rushed to the elevator. Keith collapsed against the elevator wall, and slumped down to his bum. “That was—by far—the greatest idea yet. How are we gonna top it,” he said, looking up at Lance, who had his arms stretched up and folded behind his head.

Lance ducked down beside him, slumping against the wall. He let his arms flop to the ground. “Well… I have two ideas, really,” he said, and proceeded to tick them off his fingers. “Go to see the roof.”

“Oh fuck yeah, I like that idea,” Keith said. “Do you think we could make makeshift gliders and jump off the roof?”

“What? No, wait—Let’s ask Pidge,” Lance suggested, looking surprised that he even liked the idea of that. “Besides, Pidge will probably want to join us. We’ll make it a heist and first  _kidnap Pidge_ from the teludav project, tie her up and force her to give us the glider secret, and then strap her to a glider and push her off.”

“Ok, all for this heist except pushing Pidge off the roof.”

Keith bubbled with laughter, and he couldn’t stop. He clasped a hand over his mouth and shook his head as Lance grinned cheekily at him. His insides felt like someone lit off sparklers in his stomach, and sent his heart rattling around in his ribcage. The elevator jolted to a halt on their floor.

Keith didn’t want to get up, and so he just didn’t. Lance got the picture and stayed put.

“What’s your second idea?” he asked, and Lance pursed his lips as he ticked out a second finger.

“ _Impulses_ ,” he said, and instantly Keith was on his feet. 

“Yeah, no, not doing that,” he announced, crossing his fingers in front of him like trying to ward away the devil. He backed out of the elevator, laughing at the absurdity. “I’ll see you later.”

“What! Come on, it’d be fun! What’s more exciting than listening to the little imp in the back of your head telling you to do stupid shit?”

“Stupid shit is right, and we aren’t doing it. Lance—Lance, stop following me!  _Lance!_ ” Keith shrieked, kicking into gear. He turned and bolted as Lance chased after him, yelling, “ _Listen to the imp!_ ”

As Lance chased Keith through the Olkari facility corridors, Keith’s instincts told him that his breathless lungs and aching heart were telltale signs of a  _crush for Lance_ . He couldn’t trust  _what_ they said since only now was he realizing it. Was it all because of the cycle, or was the cycle just showing him what he had always wanted? 

_No. What I want is different from what my body’s telling me to do_ , he rationalized, slamming his tablet against his dorm room panel. The doors slid open as Lance shrieked around the corner, slamming into the wall on his sharp turn. Keith twisted into his room and shut the door panels, panting hard and desperately wondering,  _Then why does my mind want it to?_

 

* * *

 

Pidge was right about something, not that she—or anyone else—knew it.

She could remember how Zarkon’s corruption funneled all his energy into one, obsessive task, just how it had warped Lotor’s motives that triggered his attack on Voltron. Pidge laid awake at night thinking about it, about what the outcome of mixing a cycle into quintessence field might be.

Because millions of lightyears from Olkarion, drenched in a quintessence field, Lotor’s mechanized suit still blinked with life. The interior panels all sparked with excess energy, glowing purple around Lotor’s white hair, and his pallid, Altean skin. His fingers clenched around the control panel, arms tensing as a jolt of electrifying energy coursed from the panel through his body.

He rose, white hair tumbling around his shoulders and over his eyes. Through it all, his eyes opened, pupils narrowing, irises sapping the yellow from his scleras. A cunning, warped smile split across his expression through the slits of his tangled white hair.

“ _Allura_ .”


	4. 1.4 || Pull The Trigger, Piglet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance kidnap Pidge, but A Greater Evil persists against The Greater Good of their shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but??? You guys are amazing??? 
> 
> Also I finished this chapter yesterday after posting and my roommATE HAS APPARENTLY BEEN READING THIS AND SHE WAS LIKE "WHEN'RE YA GONNA POST AGAIN SARAH" to which I said, "WhEn'Re Ya GoNnA pOsT aGaIn, SaRaH?"
> 
> Also, I just set this fic at 5 chapters cuz I'm gonna try and finish this particular arc in two chapters but we'll see??

Keith went to visit Shiro the next day. It seemed having your soul fused to a different body warranted several days of being comatose. Keith didn’t really blame him, but he did miss talking with Shiro. Now, he was just stuck talking  _to_ Shiro.

Shiro’s room was vacant, all except for the Olkarion sun shining in through the window, and a chair alongside Shiro’s pod casing. Keith pushed it up and sat down, pulling a knee up to his chest and resting his chin atop it. 

Shiro looked so etherial in the lighting—expression calm, his youth still preserving a face that should have beenwrinkled from all the stress of saving the universe. Keith smiled against his knee and sighed, reaching a finger out to hook onto the edge of the glass casing. 

“Miss you, buddy,” he said. He felt odd saying anything out loud. Every sound was amplified by the sheer lack of noise. Everything was untouched, unsullied, pure. Keith was just about the only think in the room exhibiting dark colors. Even his hair contrasted the airy, pristine nature of Shiro’s medical room.

Keith stiffened and stretched his shoulders back. He stood up. “Just… get better soon. Alright?” he told Shiro before leaving. 

He managed to catch his breath out in the corridor, but he needed  _out_ . He hated hospitals and never knew why until now. He clutched at the chest of his Marmora suit, struggling to breathe. He didn’t want to put his helmet on, but he did anyways, and lived through the suffocation as he hurried down into the street and crossed, bolting for the facility he and the rest of the team were staying at.

Olkarion streets were  _massive_ , thought—wide enough to transport materials for the Resistance from fighter cruisers to  _gargantuan teludavs_ . At the opposite curb, Keith buckled, collapsing to his knees as he panted desperately and begged a higher power to just  _end it_ . Why was he suddenly acting so irrationally? Why couldn’t he keep a straight face, act normal? The adrenaline highs helped, but it wasn’t enough to curb the impulses.

“Yo, Keith, you good?” Lance said, jumping from the facility docking station. He swung down in front of Keith and helped him to his feet.

“Yeah. Just… a little freaked out,” he confessed, pointing to the hospital. “Went to visit Shiro.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Fine. I think.” He winced. He hadn’t thought to check, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary in Shiro’s room. “Did you find Pidge?”

“Yeah. A shipment’s coming in and so she’s at the docking entrance. Suited up and everything,” Lance declared with a smile. Keith put his hands on his hips and nodded. He couldn’t catch his breath. “Seriously, buddy, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to,” he insisted. “Let me just… get my thoughts in order.”

Lance followed him up the rail to the edge of the loading dock. Keith slumped onto the edge of it, hooking his arms around the railing, and perching his chin atop them. Lance joined him, and together they observed the goings-on of the streets below.

A ship hovered down to the docking entrance, pushing hot, heavy air over them. Keith squinted instinctively, and cupped a hand over his eyes to look up at one of the Olkarion suns. Ghosts of their moons hovered around it, pitching stretches of shadows over the distant horizon. Keith followed the line between light and dark as it cut through clouds overhead. 

“What are you thinking?” Lance asked. 

“About how my brain won’t shut off,” he said, and glanced sideways at Lance. “What about you?”

“About you.”

Keith stared at him until he caught sight of Lance’s cheeky little grin. Keith scoffed and shoved him as hard as he could, but it did little to quell the heat rising to his face. “Fuck off,” he laughed. “I’m serious.”

“So am I! I’m wondering what it’s like to go through a cycle.”

“It’s not  _that_ big of a deal,” Keith said with a roll of his eyes.

“I dunno. It’s kind of a big deal for me. Like, who woulda thought a guy from Earth would go through an alien menstral cycle? It’s pretty rad.”

“It isn’t rad…”

“Yeah it is! Like, how many guys can say they’ve done that!”

“The  _entire_ Galra population, asshat,” Keith said, laughing. He twisted around and swung his legs back onto the ground. “Let’s get moving. The team should be unloading materials now.”

Lance hurried after Keith, and stood against the wall as Keith peered through the open docking panels. Across the warehouse, the team gathered, along with Keith’s mother, Romelle, and Wolfie. Wolfie stalked the perimeter, nose to the ground until the exact moment Keith looked at him with purpose. Their ears perked, eyes lifting to meet Keith’s from across the stretch of vacant floor. Wolfie’s form warped in a flash of blue, and an instant later, Keith was blinded by that same light opening up to Wolfie dashing to his side, skidding across the metal flooring. 

Lance gasped in amazement, stunned. “I didn’t know they could do that…!” he cried under his breath. “You officially have  _thee_ coolest dog  _ever_ .”

“Shut up and focus,” Keith said. He pointed to the metal rafters overhead. “We’ll jet up there and attack from above. Do you have the rope?”

Lance swept it off from where he had it looped around his jetpack. He held it out to Keith, who took it and snapped a stretch of it out. He hooked it around Lance and fastened it securely around Lance’s waist with a firm tug. Lance squeaked and giggled. “Ooh, feisty.”

“Fuck off,” Keith laughed, shoving the rope into Lance’s arms. “Hang onto it until we get up there.” 

Lance hooked the rope around his arm and followed Keith as he vaulted off the loading dock foundation and pushed off of a pyramid of crates. He lunged to the second story railing and deflected his momentum outwards, to the rafters. He caught on and swung forward and up, dropping steadily onto the rafters. Lance was less graceful—he slammed his chest straight into the rafter and let out an aching, “ _Ouch_ …” as he got his breath back.

Thankfully, no one heard them below. They watched for a moment as Hunk propped a crate onto a hovercraft and shut the lid. He gave it a firm pat and the driver took it off. Pidge stood off to the side with Coran, making note of the materials on her checklist. Coran was sorting through a box, not looking up as Keith and Lance traveled across the beams to stand overhead. Keith took the ropes.

“Ready?” he whispered, and Lance clapped his hands together deviously.

“Always,” he declared, and lowered himself off of the beam. 

He descended fast. Keith caught the excess rope and braced himself on the beam, carrying Lance’s entire weight.  _This isn’t so bad_ , he thought, until Lance collided with Pidge.

Pidge, as anyone would, screamed. Lance latched onto her with a devious, “Muahahaha!” and hefted her off of the ground. He vaulted with his jetpack, stealing Pidge away from Coran, who was too alarmed to do anything other than alert the rest of the team to Pidge’s kidnapping. Pidge dropped her tablet in her fight to get out of Lance’s arms, but to no avail.

Keith helped them onto the beam and cut the rope with his knife. “Let’s go,” he said, and started to race across the beams to the exit as Allura shouted at them to “unhand Pidge!”

Lance set Pidge on her feet, only to hook his shoulder against her abdomen, and heave her up. She squealed and cried, “Stop manhandling me!”

Lance jogged after Keith with Pidge on his shoulder. They jumped to the second story, and Lance nearly took out his knees with the added weight on his back. Pidge grunted as Lance’s shoulder dug into her lungs. 

“ _Ow_ ,” she moaned.

Keith stole one of the hoverpads and kicked it into the gear. They dumped Pidge onto it, and Keith hefted the rope around her and knotted it like the Marmora taught him in basic training. Pidge scowled at them both. 

“What the fuck are you two doing?” she demanded.

“No time!” Lance said, grabbing the hoverpad by the handle and dragging it along. “Let’s go!”

Keith lifted his Marmora mask the instant they were through the entry way into the facility. Lance ditched the visor and looked at Keith through the gap in his helmet. Keith pointed to the elevator where a pair of workers were waiting. Together, they wedged past the workers into the opening elevator. The workers cried out in alarm, and Lance apologized before slamming the doors shut on them. 

Pidge wriggled around on the hoverpad before collapsing onto the ground. “ _Seriously!_ What the fresh Hell is going on!”

Keith helped her to her feet as the elevator dropped to the ground floor. It didn’t take long. “We’re making gliders,” he explained. “We’re gonna go on the roof, and jump.”

Pidge stared at him, glasses slipping. “You’re insane! Krolia was right—you are a little coo-coo now.”

“My mom said that?” Keith said, frowning, only to be interrupted by Lance waving his arms like mad.

“We just need you to get access to one of those little tree-crown things and we’ll book it to the forest!” he explained with a swoop of his arms. He pegged Pidge with an expectant, excited look. Pidge wasn’t buying it, and Lance knew it. He slumped forward miserably. “Aw, c’mon! I know you want to…”

“Yeah, but I  _also_ kinda wanna get back home,” she said, gesturing to where they had recently kidnapped her from. “I have work to do.”

“They can manage unloading without you,” Keith said, arms crossed. “It’ll take thirty minutes if we move fast enough. You in or out?”

Pidge furrowed her brows, and then looked away, shaking her shoulders as she tried to free her arms. She sagged and sighed, thinking deeply. “Fine. Yeah, I can spare thirty minutes. What’s your plan to get to the forests?”

They hijacked a transport vehicle.

Pidge knew the most out of all of them when it came to the Olkari language that was smattered across the vehicle controls, so she took over. They all dropped into the jeep-like vehicle and fastened their seatbelts upon her threatening them to do so. Keith leaned over the center console as Pidge started up the engine and prepared for takeoff.

The space jeep darted off the ground in a plume of dirt and took off at full-speed. Pidge screamed in horror, swinging the wheel around and taking them on a trip of a lifetime through the streets of the Olkari city. Lance flattened back in his seat, screaming his head like mad as Keith struggled to reach the controls. He slumped back in his seat and stretched forward, gripping the back of Pidge’s chair and pushing against the air battering them from ahead.

He clasped onto the lever, and cranked it down a notch. The vehicle steadied, and Pidge was back in control. 

“Watch the speed,” Keith said, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed. He propped a foot up on the back of Lance’s seat as Pidge turned a glare onto him. She reached for the speed dial. Keith straightened in horror. “Pidge, no—”

Too late.

Less than ten minutes later, Keith slumped out of the backseat more nauseous than he was before. He gagged a little, clutching at his stomach as he collapsed to the ground. Lance stepped out of the front seat with a jolt in his step, stumbling over his feet. He spun before collapsing on the ground beside Keith with a groan.

“Worse than the teacups. Definitely… worse than the teacups,” Lance said.

Pidge’s shadow fell over them, along with the sense of foreboding she brought with her everywhere she went. “C’mon guys, y’all are just weak,” she said, perching one of the wooden crowns atop her head. “Let’s get moving.”

Keith raised up onto his elbows, staring after Pidge as she marched into the depths of the forest without looking back. He turned to look accusingly at Lance, who shrugged and hurried on ahead to his feet. Keith slumped back onto the ground with a groan before shifted his knees up and raising his head from his almost-grave. He’d survive this day just like any other, he was sure of it.

Pidge marched them into the forest, arms swinging like a toy solider. Lance followed suit, and together they chanted, “Right, left, right!” as they ascended up a switchback trail with Keith tagging several paces behind. They didn’t have to go far, but from atop the hill, they could see the city beyond, and the pods in the trees that blossomed nature’s machinery. 

Pidge readjusted the crown before placing her hands on the tree trunk. All three of their faces turned upwards, watching the network of lights shoot up the veins of the tree. Lance hummed in amazement and clapped a hand on Pidge’s shoulder as the pod overhead swelled from one of the branch nodes.

“Way to go, Pidgeon! Man, I’ll never get the hang of that,” he said, only to shriek a moment later when the pod dropped a few feet from them.

The shell casing unfurled, and webbed out in the shape of a paraglider. Keith stepped over to it and lifted it up by the hefty bar. “This… is actually perfect. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting,” he confessed, looking in surprise at Pidge, who beamed at the half-compliment.

“Let’s try a different tree,” she suggested, and so they went from tree-to-tree producing paraglider after paraglider until they were set with three functional ones. “What if we hooked one up to the back of the jeep—”

“ _No!_ No, no, no thank you,” Lance exclaimed, waving his hands hastily. “Bad idea.”

Pidge looked to Keith hopefully. He grimaced. “I’m with Lance on this one.”

She harrumphed, arms crossed, lips pouted. She eyed them both suspiciously before pegging them each with a pointed finger. “Since when were you two on the same page?” she questioned. “I thought Hunk was lying when he said you two were hanging out now.”

“What do you mean?” Keith said.

“Yeah, we’ve just been exploring,” Lance said, and after a look at Keith, gave a firm, yet unconvincing nod.

Pidge didn’t linger on the details. “Alright… well, let’s get the gliders to the jeep.”

They each carried one over their heads, and carted the gliders back down the hill to where the vehicle waited patiently for them amongst the underbrush. Keith snuck between bushes of heavy fern leaves as he approached the back of the jeep. They used a cable to latch the gliders on. Lance all but sprinted to the driver’s seat, and claimed it before Pidge had the chance to ruin their breakfasts again.

Pidge pouted in the passenger’s seat as Lance swung the jeep around and cruised down the dirt trail. She scowled at Lance’s profile and muttered, “I’m not  _that_ bad of a driver…”

“You never even went through driver’s ed,” Lance remarked, and turned back to the road. “Lemme show you  _how it’s done!_ ”

And that was how Lance pulled a wheelie before being stopped by the Olkari traffic officers. It was then that Lance realized that none of them had Olkari licenses, and that joyriding really  _shouldn’t_ have been on their list of things to do that day.

Lance pulled over and stared helplessly at Keith through the side mirror. Keith watched as the officer walked up and leaned a hand on the roof of their vehicle, eyeing the gliders, and the three very-not-Olkari occupants. 

“Our cameras picked up you three going 90 miles per dobash no more than a quarter varga ago,” the officer said. 

Pidge immediately turned back around to stare at Keith. “They use customary units?” she hissed, turning back around in horror. “Americans  _are_ all aliens…”

“I’m sorry officer, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lance said, and Keith could have punched him right in the back of the skull. Instead, he clenched his fists tight around his forearms and refrained from doing anything at all.

The officer looked at Lance sharply. “You sped down the main way and disrupted the commercial traffic lane.”

“I didn’t know that was a law,” Lance said. Pidge’s jaw dropped.

“Sir, are you even from Olkarion?”

“No sir, I don’t even have a license here.”

_Holy fuck_ , Keith said, covering his eyes with his hand as though the officer could even see his face through the mask.

The officer blinked, though he didn’t seem all that surprised. They were very obviously human, and after housing the Holts planet-side for nearly a year, most every in the city knew what a human looked like. Lance, Pidge, and Keith were no different, even  _in_ uniform.

“Who are you hosted with?” the officer asked, and Lance gave him the name of the facility before hooking an elbow over the edge of the window. Lance raised a seductive eyebrow and grinned.

“You know, where the leaders of the  _Voltron Coalition_ are staying.” He gestured to his paladin uniform before reaching a hand out. “Red Paladin, at your service.”

The officer merely stared at Lance’s hand, and Keith wanted to scream that not  _all_ species shook hands! What was Lance thinking? “I believe the Red Paladin wears  _red armor_ ,” the officer remarked. “Sir, I’m going to have to take you to the station.”

“Holy hot potato,” Pidge moaned, slumping back as the officer ordered Lance to follow him before heading back to his squad vehicle. “You really did it now, McClain…”

“I bet we could go 90 miles per dobash again in the five seconds it takes for the officer to start his car,” Lance said, cranking the car into gear. 

“Lance, no—” Keith started, but it was too late, once again.

 

They arrived at the facility.

Keith must have blacked out somewhere enroute, but he came to as Lance vaulted out of the driver’s seat and unstrapped the gliders. Lance clamored over the back of the jeep and smacked Keith upside the head. “Let’s go, hot stuff! We gotta move before the officer finds the car!”

Keith groaned, holding a hand to his head. He stumbled out of his seat, nearly retching as he grabbed his glider from Lance. “I fucking hate you,” he moaned.

“And I fucking  _hate—you—too!_ ” Lance cooed mockingly, jabbing Keith’s shoulder with each word. “No time to waste!”

Pidge was already racing to the elevator, holding the door for them as they wedged the gliders in. To their great surprise, as the doors closed, classical, jazzy elevator music began chiming through nonexistent speakers. Keith was certain it was just a side effect of losing his mind, but then Lance started swaying his hips to the tune, and Pidge stared helplessly at Keith from across the narrow elevator space.

At the top floor, the elevator pinged, and they escaped the madhouse music in favor of searching for a roof access door. Pidge pointed across the center atrium, to a door with a classic stairwell symbol with an ‘X’ marking it. “Roof access!” she cried, scrambling around the railing to take the lead. They sprinted after her, and skidded to a halt in front of the locked entrance.

Keith tried the handle, yanking it hard. It didn’t budge. 

“Watch out,” Pidge said, summoning her bayard. She sliced the handle straight off and carved a wedge through the door lock. Lance kicked it open with a holler, his shout echoing rather than the sound of breaking-and-entering. 

Bright, warm light met them in the stairwell as they spiraled up and emerged at the peak of the facility, surrounded by a city of innovators beneath the blue sky. Keith’s lungs remember to lose their ability to function as he walked out across the rooftop to the ledge, his glider propped on his back where the wind nearly swept him off his feet. He closed his eyes to the sensation of the cool altitude blending with the UV radiation pulsing on his pure black suit. Ah, yes, how he loved occasional radiation exposure.

“Hot damn,” Lance breathed, staring out at the city. He looked back at Pidge, whose eyes were wide beneath her visor and glasses. “You seeing this?”

“Yeah, I’m not  _blind_ ,” she said, and promptly punched him in the stomach. Lance buckled with a shout. “Let’s do this. Where are we landing?”

Keith was just pointing to the spot he and Lance picked out, only to focus on a flash of light entering the atmosphere.

He lifted his finger to it, gaze following as the Olkarion sun flashed against the object’s surface. It sent a blinding glare across the city, striking through the air, and streaking white through the clouds. As soon as it came within seconds of crash-landing outside the city limits, they heard it—an alarm blaring within the facility.

“What the hell is that?” Lance said, looking back at Keith. Keith shrugged.

Their comm units crackled to life with a ping—an incoming message from Allura. Keith put a hand to his ear, blocking out the sounds of the city below. “ _Lance, Pidge, Keith—! A Galra craft just entered the atmosphere. We need you at the crash site immediately. The rest of us are boarding a transport vehicle_ .”

“Copy that, Princess,” Lance said. He hefted the glider up with a grin. “Let’s see who makes it there first.”

Lance took off with a running start. He vaulted off of the ledge with a comical, “Hup!” and Keith felt his heart leap with the action. It stopped in his chest as he watched Lance drop out of view.

Both he and Pidge ran to the ledge just as Lance came soaring up, the glider tipped to the wind current. He flew with an ecstatic, “Yippee!  _Alright!_ ” as he curbed around the rooftop and took off towards the crash sight. Down below, they caught sight of the rest of Hunk and Allura taking off down the cleared streets of the Olkari city.

“Here goes,” Pidge said, letting out a shaky breath. She ran forward, and flew, screaming as the wind picked her up and sent her soaring after Lance. Branches snapped out from the webbed glider and latched onto her torso, holding her in place as she caught the current chasing after Lance.

Keith stared down the great expanse beneath him before stepping away with an unsteady gasp of air. He could do this. Lance and Pidge made it just fine. His heart wouldn’t start again, though, until he was running for the ledge and pitching his glider forward. 

He jumped and caught his hands on the bar with a terrified shout. The glider’s webbed vines snapped out to catch him by the waist, steadying him as the wind swept him towards Lance and Pidge. A strong current pushed him onwards, catching up with them in a matter of seconds. His heart hammered in his chest, aching in his throat as he looked down at their gliders. He gasped out a relieved laugh. They were living.

The gliders carried them over the city, and as they neared the forests, and the column of smoke rising above the trees, Lance tipped his glider forward and swung lower, grazing the treetops. Pidge followed after him, and after some fiddling with the glider controls, Keith was able to pitch himself forward and follow after the trail they blazed. 

They followed the track the Galra craft left among the trees. It had taken out chunks of massive trunks and cleared a divot in the dirt. No ordinary single-cruiser could leave a scar this big, and soon, Keith could see what it was, flashing in a spray of buzzing electricity. 

“ _Is that…?_ ” Pidge started, the energy pulsing from the machine nearly sputtering out their communication.

Keith pressed a hand to his ear, tuning into the broken sentence Lance let out. All he caught was, “— _Lotor_ ?”

Keith swept ahead of them, curbing his glider to the ground. Once close, he dropped from the glider sprinting, running with his hand going to his knife holster.

His comm unit was going insane—flashes of voices and sparks shot through it in the matter of seconds it took for him to run up to Lotor’s Sincline ships. As if he’d let that creep survive  _again_ , after what he did to Allura—after what he did to  _Alteans_ . If Lotor thought he could slip past justice again, he was  _dead wrong_ .

Keith came within a few feet from the machine, preparing to vault himself onto it and tear into the control pod. Pidge’s voice screamed from below, beyond the comm unit, and beyond her visor as she shouted, “ _KEITH DON’T TOUCH IT—_ ”

The sparks of energy zapped across the arm of Lotor’s ship, whipping out and cutting across Keith’s chest. He flew back and rolled across the dirt with a scream, clutching at where the energy seared into his suit and sliced a hefty burn of purple across his chest. The glove of his suit tore around the fingers, and he stared at his shaking, purple fingers as they struggled to fade back to pale white. 

He looked to stare at the machine flashing white quintessence, wilting all of the plant life in its path. He looked back at where Pidge and Lance were running up to him, to where the scar across the Olkarion forest was more than just a crash site—

—Lotor’s Sincline suit was sapping the life from the planet entirely.

“Shit! Keith, are you alright?” Lance shouted, panting as he ran up to Keith. He dropped to his knees, hefting Keith off the ground and to his knees. Keith groaned, clutching at the burn across his chest.

“I’m fine. It’s happened before,” he said, gasping. He couldn’t breathe. He winced behind his mask and gasped out, “It’ll heal in a little while.”

“We need to get out of here. I think the entire place is—” Pidge said, flitting through the spectrum on her wrist panel. Through the sparking green screen, she caught sight of something emerging from the mech suit. 

She stopped, and Lance looked up to her at the hitch in her voice. He followed her gaze to where the head of the mech suit lifted in a cloud of steam. 

“—Infected,” Pidge finished.

She cursed as a figure rose, silhouetted in white, quintessence-infused steam. 

A breeze cleared the obstructed path, white sparks flitting up around Lotor’s form as he stepped out of the machine, hand clutching the edge of it. His hair fell in tangles around his shoulders as he stared at them, the whites of his eyes too obvious to ignore. The sheer lack of  _Galra_ in him had Pidge’s bayard flinging up. She stepped in front of Keith and Lance, leveling it with Lotor as the monster staggered towards her. 

“Stay back!” she shouted. “I’m fucking warning you to  _stay where you are!_ ” 

Lotor slumped back on his heels, head tipped to the side as if he couldn’t hold it on his shoulders. He sneered, sharp canines glinting beyond his white hair as it parted to reveal tanned skin and Altean markings. Pidge tightened her grip on her bayard. 

“I’d like to see you try, Paladin,” Lotor sneered, rolling his head so it tipped forward, shadowing his eyes as he hissed, “Where is she.”

Lance was on his feet then, aiming the barrel of his rifle for Lotor’s nonexistent heart. “You really think threatening us is going to do anything? Your ship’s totaled, and you can barely stand.”

Lotor stepped towards them, lowering his hand from the side of his Sincline ship. 

Pidge panicked—she  _told him_ to stay where he fucking was, and he wasn’t  _doing it_ .

She snapped her bayard out and swung it by the electrifying rope at Lotor. She aimed to immobilize him, lasso him if she could. If only she could get him to  _stand still_ —

Lotor ducked to the side. The tattered folds of his uniform followed, coursing flashes of white light from his feet to the arm reaching to hook the end of Pidge’s weapon. He grabbed it by the rope, green stripes of lightning merging with the white quintessence flooding off of him. He snapped it tight, wrapping it around his wrist. Pidge jolted forward, grinding her heels into the dirt. Lotor hardly seemed to mind that Pidge’s bayard was burning through the glove of his suit as he wrapped it tighter and tighter around his wrist, stepping forward with each motion until he was in range. 

He yanked Pidge forward, catching her by the collar of her armor. “ _Where. Is she._ ” he seethed.

“Shoot him,” Keith hissed at Lance through, but Lance was frozen, struck by how Pidge’s bayard did nothing to deflect Lotor. 

A motor roared behind them.

Keith turned as an Olkari buggy vaulted over the hill, Hunk at the wheel. He spun it to a screeching halt, kicking up a cloud of dirt as Allura rose up in the passenger’s seat, clinging to the front windshield. She leapt through the cloud of it, her feet hitting the ground steadfast and unmoving. She rose up with every intention of rising Hell with her.

“Lotor,” she sneered, snapping her hand to the side. Her staff materialized, and she swung it back and struck it forward, aiming it to where Lotor still held the front of Pidge’s armor.

Keith struggled to his feet. He leant towards Lance, eyes going back to where Lotor’s attention had completely vanished from Pidge. It was like Pidge wasn’t even there. 

Hunk stood now from the backseat of the buggie, bayard hefted up over the front windshield and aimed at the mech suit. His sights landed on Lotor as Allura demanded he unhand Pidge. The man’s hand fell from Pidge’s armor in an instant. 

Pidge was so alarmed that when Lotor shoved her aside, she fell completely. She landed back on her elbows with a squeak as Lotor stepped over her legs and past Lance. He barely got a step further before Lotor collapsed to his knees, eyes meeting the weighted end of Allura’s staff. 

“What is the state of your machine,” she demanded.

“Harmless,” he answered.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Pidge interrupted, hurrying back to her feet. “It’s infecting the surrounding area, sapping the quintessence from the plant life and who knows what else.”

“Side-effect of the quintessence field,” Lotor hissed out in Pidge’s direction. The instant he turned to her, though, Allura had her staff pressed into his cheek, flitting away his hair to see his markings. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Pitch it out of the atmosphere for all I care,” he said.

“You sure that’s Lotor we’re talking to?” Hunk called from the buggie. “That—That doesn’t sound like Lotor to me.”

“It’s him alright,” Lance muttered. “Mind if I test something?”

Allura kept her sights on Lotor as Lance aimed his rifle for Lotor’s foot and shot it. The laser zap struck through the material of Lotor’s boots, but the damage stopped there. It seemed to  _sink_ into Lotor’s skin, unfazed. 

Allura’s eyes widened. She tugged the staff away from Lotor’s cheek, allowing him to face her completely once more. “Nothing a knife can’t fix,” Keith said with a sneer, flipping the handle of his blade and taking a step towards Lotor. Allura cut her staff out in front of him, blocking his path to justice.

“Allura—” Lotor started, and they all, and perhaps Lotor included, stopped at the tenderness in his voice. Keith could have vomited, and if he did, in fact, vomit, he hoped he could projectile-aim it at Lotor’s face. That just wasn’t the case. 

Allura rose an incredulous eyebrow down at Lotor, looking more or less offended that he was even trying to appeal to her forgiving nature. 

Lotor’s eyes searched her face before dropping to her feet. “No amount of apologizing will right the wrong I’ve committed,” he said. “Proving myself worthy is out of the question now. Do what you must and I’ll accept the consequences as long as you know that you were always the better outcome. When I couldn’t have that, I fell weak to the power my… parents fell privy to.”

“Fell weak is right,” Lance muttered with a roll of his eyes. “Keith, do the knife thing.”

Keith took a firm step towards Lotor with the knife raised, but Allura never moved her staff. In fact, she reaffirmed it.

“Are you kidding me!” Lance cried, though Keith swore he hadn’t seen Allura’s expression change since she stepped foot out of Hunk’s buggie. “Allura, he’s a manipulative little bitch! Let Keith do the thing already!”

“He wants to kill my people,” Keith insisted, and this prompted Allura’s eyes to lift from Lotor. She stared at Keith, who set his jaw tight before saying anything more. “Don’t let him do what Zarkon did to your people.”

“But you all are  _right_ ,” she seethed, jabbing the staff at Lotor’s throat. He tipped his chin up, eyes never leaving hers. “Having the Prince on our side was our best chance of turning the Galra onto a greater path. Without that, we can’t hope to win with peace.”

“There is no greater path than the one you lead,” Lotor said, clutching a hand to Allura’s staff. Keith did a double-take, but by then Lotor was already throwing them all for a loop. “I’ll do anything. If I can’t prove myself, then let me be your pawn.”

“Holy shit…” Pidge gasped from beside him, but Allura’s eyes were all Lotor could look at. “Oh my God, I think—He’s  _smitten_ .”

“He’s what?” Allura squeaked, trying to tug her staff away. Lotor had a firm grasp on it though, and seemed to have no intent of using it against her. 

“You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever worked with. I can help you build so much with the knowledge of our people—”

“The cycle,” Pidge said. “The quintessence must have screwed with it. Convinced him that he loves you.”

Lotor rose up on his knees, the tattered hem of his coat pulsing with white quintessence. “I  _do_ love you,” he said, all starry-eyed and filled with wonder.

Allura jabbed her staff into his chest with a disgusted shriek like she was deflecting an insect. He released the staff, only to be whacked upside the head with a hearty baseball swing. His eyes fluttered as he fell to the side, collapsing unconscious on the ground. Allura froze on the follow-through, staff poised in preparation for another attack. The four of them all stared as she looked at all of them in horror before slumping forward with a miserable groan.

“I can’t do it,” she cried, slapping a hand to her head. “I can’t kill him.”

“That’s fine, just let Keith do it,” Lance said. “You don’t even have to watch.”

Keith punched his fist into his opposite hand, preparing to finish the job, but Allura waved a hand. “No, no, we need to… contain Lotor’s ship first. I need to save my energy for refueling the plant life.”

“C’mon, it’ll take like five seconds,” Lance insisted, but Allura was adamant. There would be no bloodshed that day, no matter how much the other paladins pined for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	5. 1.5 || More Than You Bargained For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Keith needs is a clear shot at Lotor and no witnesses. But with cycle cravings on the mind, he gets a _little_ distracted.

The damage from Lotor’s Sincline suit was more extensive than any of them could have predicted at that exact moment, but when it came to cleaning, they hit a speed bump. A  _major_ speed bump.

The instant they brought the Lions into the mix, the concentrated quintessence zapped Lance straight out of the atmosphere. Red went soaring over the trees and rocketing to space like a baseball being shot into a shooting star in a cartoon. They could still hear Lance screaming in their comm units as Pidge said, “Yikes. So no-touching, got it.”

“Oh! Oh,  _maybe_ !” Hunk started eagerly, “ _Maybe_ … we could attach ropes to it and then just hoist it up into orbit.”

“Right, and how are we gonna attach ropes to it if we can’t touch it, genius,” Keith groaned and followed up with a defeated sigh. “ _Ugh_ , this is  _awful!_ Look at the fucking forest!”

They did, and it was worsening by the second. Truth be told, it felt like they were dealing with the quintessence field openings Lotor ripped through the fabric of space. Though, they couldn’t exact explode the planet like they did with the Castle. They didn’t even have the teludav capacity to do such a thing, let alone the  _lack of morality_ .

“I…” Pidge started, zipping forward. She turned back to them and flickered onto Keith’s dash. “I think I have an idea? It might just curb the quintessence, but it’s worth a shot.”

She activated her bayard and used her anti-tech canon at the mech suit. Hunk gasped in amazement, and was clapping before they were sure the work was done. Massive vines layered over the suit like spray paint, merging it with the land around it. Keith was mildly impressed, though it was only a matter of time before Lotor’s suit zapped even that.

“Alright. Let’s see if we can touch it now,” Keith said, and together he, Hunk, and Pidge raised the mech suit from where it was lodged amongst the foothills of the Olkarion mountain range. 

They flew up beyond the clouds and past the atmosphere. Pidge calculated the speed at which one of the Olkarion moons orbited, and after much fiddling, they matched it and released the Sincline ship suit out into orbit. There, it would remain untouched by the moons as they continued their daily journey around the planet.

Lance returned planet-side, scowling on Keith’s dash. “Wow, thanks for leaving me out of the planning, guys.”

“You aren’t the only one,” Hunk reassured. “Allura’s still dealing with Lotor.”

“Ooh! Look, she sent photos. I’m so glad we figured out texting on these things,” Pidge said with an eager squeal. She pulled up the chat on all their panels, and Keith leant back and rolled his eyes away from it all. He could really do without the starry-eyed Lotor likely now riddling Allura’s phone under the pretense of “documenting a prisoner.” 

“Aw, do you guys really think Allura still likes him?” Lance moaned, and a scorched feeling melded into the pit of Keith’s stomach. He knew what it was the instant his expression soured.  _Jealousy_ . Annoyance, perhaps, because Lance could never seem to shut up about Allura before. 

_He probably just didn’t talk about her the past few days because Lotor wasn’t in the picture then_ , Keith thought, setting his jaw tight.  _He’ll be back to bothering Allura now, it seems_ .

“I dunno. She was kinda bummed about the whole thing,” Pidge offered. It just succeeded in souring Keith’s mood further. 

“I’m heading back to the facility. I’ll see you guys later,” he said, and ducked out of their little powwow over the damaged, scarred earth. Still, he left the comm unit on long enough to hear Lance, Hunk, and Pidge debate just how in love  _was_ Allura before shit went sideways? Was it enough for her to fall back at the sight of Lotor’s false devotion?

Keith wished he couldn’t care less, but the facts said enough. Lotor nearly blew them all to smithereens. Anyone who came that close to killing his friends would pay if he had any say in it. 

“— _So I dunno, man, I think she was just broken up about the fact that Lotor, like, besmirched the name of Alteans_ ,” Hunk was saying as Keith flew Black into the facility hanger. He sat for a moment even after preparing to change his Lion down, watching Lance’s audio waves hitch at the sound of a heavy sigh. 

“ _Maybe. I don’t know. I mean, you heard what the Marmora said about the colony. They still think Lotor’s their messiah_ ,” Lance said. Keith could picture him—rubbing a hand over his tense brow, lips drawn tight in distress. “ _If Allura wants to reconcile with the Alteans…_ ”

Keith turned off the comm unit. He sat back, hand over his mouth, hurt sweeping over him atop a wave of confusion. How could they have hinged so much on Lotor’s survival? How could they have hinged the  _war_ on a monster like that? 

He clenched his hands over the arm rests and forced himself up. He left Black more frustrated than he was going in to this whole disaster. He wasn’t sure he could look at Allura without bitching her out. It wasn’t the professional thing to do, or the  _teammate_ thing to do, but he couldn’t stand by and let Lotor live on. Fuck it if it was for his own personal issues. If Allura was going to make the war personal, then so would he.

But maybe that was just the cycle talking. He couldn’t be sure anymore.

He walked out of the hanger, letting the lights fade away behind him. Black’s shield went up as Keith disappeared behind the hanger door and went in search of Coran. 

When Lotor’s ship touched down, Coran stayed behind, unable to assist with the Castle anymore. He was sure to find Coran working on the teludav equipment, and double-checked his tablet to be sure. He frowned at the notification from Allura, the one Pidge pulled up on their consoles. He deleted it without opening it, and pulled up the tracker map that pinged their locations in the facility. Unfortunately, though, he found Coran’s location pinned beside Allura’s, which only meant one thing Keith dared not go near yet. 

He festered about Lotor and Allura and Lance all the way up to his dorm where he shed his suit and slumped into his bed pod with a dull, distressed groan. He curled onto his side and slapped his hand onto the button beside the bed, sealing the pod shut. If he could just ignore the world and his thoughts for just a few  _minutes_ , he  _might_ be able to squeeze a nap in, or hopefully conk out for the next eight hours.

He didn’t get eight hours.

He didn’t even get half an hour before someone was knocking on his door.

Distantly, past the bed pod walls, he heard Lance singing, “ _Keeeith!_ ” and Keith really wanted to stab his heart for failing him now.

“Go away!” he shouted.

“ _We’re visiting Prince Lubricant to give him a piece of our minds!_ ”

“ _Yeah!_ ” Hunk quipped.

“God! Don’t do that!” Keith whined. “You’re acting like children!”  _As if I’m any better_ .

“ _You’re the one acting like children!_ ” Lance retorted. Keith flipped onto his back and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “ _Pidge is breaking into your room as we speak._ ”

Sure enough, as Keith sat up to swear at them, the door panel beeped and an instant later, Lance was marching in and knocking on Keith’s bed pod wall. Keith scowled at him through the semi-opaque surface. All he could really see was Lance’s shadow, soon to be accompanied by Hunk and Pidge.

Keith groaned, twisting away towards the wall. He folded his arms over his stomach and scowled as he heard Lance ask Pidge to “do the thing”, and a moment later, the pod opened up. 

“No,” Keith said instantly, and slapped Lance’s hand away when he tried to drag Keith out. “I said no, you—You—You underdeveloped  _squash!_ ”

“Yikes, buddy,” Hunk said as Lance leant back and scratched a hand to the side of his face, scowling intently at Keith. “You’ve done it now.”

“First you’ve got the officers on your bad side, and now Keith,” Pidge said. “I’m impressed.”

“I’m not on his bad side! Right, Keith,” Lance said, poking Keith’s side. Keith smacked him away, and floundered his arm until he nailed Lance in the shoulder and cheek. Lance launched himself back with a yelp, caressing his now-red cheek. He threw his fists down and stomped his foot. “Alright,  _fine_ . What do  _you_ want to do!”

“I—” Keith didn’t have the slightest idea, but as soon as he said it, his body started telling him exactly what he wanted. “I’m kind of hungry, honestly.”

“PMS mixed with  _hunger?_ The worst,” Pidge said, pulling Keith up by the hand. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“It is  _not_ PMS,” Keith retorted. “What even is that?”

He rolled up to sit on the edge of the bed, frowning as Pidge pat him on the head. “Oh my dear, dear innocent child,” she hummed. “What are you thinking? The commissary’s closed but I bet if we asked they could whip something up.”

“I don’t know what I’m hungry for,” he confessed, clutching at his stomach. He looked to Hunk, and then to Lance, and back again.

“Something sweet or salty? Spicy, maybe?” Hunk offered.

“ _Sweet_ ,” the imp whispering impulses into Keith’s ear said. “ _You want something sweet_ .”

He said as much to Hunk, who nodded intently and started formulating ideas. Pidge forced Keith out of the bed and threw clothes at him. “As much as I love… all this…” she said, gesturing to the general shape of Keith, “my heart can only handle so much. Cover up.”

“Gee, thanks,” he muttered, and watched as she and Hunk marched out of the room before smirking at Lance. He wiggled his eyebrows, and Lance flustered indignantly before chasing after his friends so Keith could get changed. 

In the midst of changing into Lance’s jeans and blue, long-sleeve shirt, Keith’s tablet pinged. He scowled at the notification from Allura, and the very obvious attachment of a photo sequence with it. He wasn’t nearly as angry as before, but his feelings still festered deep inside. He pushed them down long enough to open the attachments and promptly roll his eyes at the sight of Lotor behind the glass on his knees in front of Allura. You could see her smug smile in the goddamn window reflection before a photo followed with Lotor in the far, bottom corner looking like a puppy, and Coran with his arms crossed looking entirely displeased with the situation. She captioned it, “ _I’m surrounded by idiots._ ” which was followed by, “ _THAT WAS A PROPER JOKE RIGHT?! CORAN ISN’T ACTUALLY AN IDIOT!_ ” Pidge pinged back, “ _That was an excellent joke, Princess. Kudos_ .”

Keith stepped out of the room, thumb and forefinger pinched over the bridge of his nose with his tablet raised in his opposite hand. “My tablet history is filled with these shitty Lotor images.”

“Great, I know,” Hunk laughed. “Lance is gonna edit him with pigtails and post it on the Galra web.”

“I was  _kidding_ ,” Lance cried, stomping his foot. “Coran would personally slaughter me. We still need to talk about how to contain this shit.”

“The Olkari are gonna ask questions about the forests,” Pidge said as they started the walk to the elevator. She perched a hand under her chin, humming thoughtfully. “Well… Okay, this might be a bit of a stretch, but hear me out: You know how when Lotor and his gal squad came to the quintessence field sight?”

“Yeah, I remember it like it was two days ago,” Keith sighed, rubbing a hand to his forehead. “Get to the point.”

“Well, he tried to reason with us,” she said. “But it wasn’t a matter of  _not being able to do the thing without us_ . He already had all of the quintessence he wanted. You saw how he could jump in and out of the field at will. He didn’t need us anymore, but he tried to make peace.”

“What are you suggesting?” Lance said warily, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Like, even if Lotor’s insane right now, maybe he… was right?” she offered, and gestured frantically when Keith groaned and Hunk winced. “That we were the better option! But being exposed to all that quintessence was already fucking with him, you know what I’m saying? He’s just sick right now and maybe we can help him get better.”

“Okay, I agree that Lotor’s sick right now, but we are  _not_ the doctors for him,” Lance said with a laugh. “I mean, are we just going to ignore the whole Altean colony thing?”

“You were right though, Lance,” Hunk said. “The colony won’t accept us, not if Lotor’s not in the picture. I mean, imagine if Jesus swooped in to take everyone to Heaven’s paradise and a bunch of atheists killed him and claimed they could do us one better.”

Lance laid a dainty hand over his chest, offended. “Don’t bring my boy Jesus into this, man. You know how my Mama feels about him.”

Hunk rolled his eyes. “I know dude, but Lotor’s  _their_ messiah. And we practically killed him. He promised them safety and protection from the war. We’re  _bringing the war_ to them whether we know it or not. Their innocence—”

“Ignorance,” Pidge put in.

“Right, thank you pidge,” Hunk said. “We’re popping that bubble! Ignorance, gone, goodbye Garden of Eden. They’ll equate everything wrong with the universe with us because we’re the ones who introduced them to that.”

Lance put a hand to his face and semi-swooned to the side, slumping against the elevator wall. “Aye yai yai… I don’t like this one bit…” he moaned as the elevator doors shut.

The instant the doors closed, they were all faced with a sheet of paper pinned to the surface. Keith raised an eyebrow at it as Pidge tore it down and adjusted her glasses. “Uh… mind telling me why there’s a  _wanted poster_ with your names on it?” she said, holding it up to Keith and Lance.

Lance blinked in alarm, and Keith was too done with life to care. He took it and crinkled it up. “Probably just a misunderstanding,” he said, tossing it to the far corner of the elevator as they approached the commissary floor. “Let’s go,” he said, slipping out into the hall with the rest of the team following suit. 

The abandoned letter unfolded in the corner, crinkled but still legible:

 

> ** BLACK AND RED PALADINS: **
> 
> WE WOULD GREATLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU REFRAINED FROM  **VIOLATING FACILITY PROPERTY** . 
> 
>  
> 
> ** FACILITY PERSONEL: **
> 
> IF YOU HAPPEN TO ENCOUNTER THE BLACK AND RED PALADINS, DO NOT HESITATE TO CALL SECURITY  **IMMEDIATELY** SHOULD THEY IGNORE THE RULES. WE HAVE RULES FOR A REASON.

 

The kitchen was dark, all except for the button lights on the appliances, and on the panels beside the door that flashed bright when the door swung open. Hunk leaned in hesitantly, eyes wide in the dark. He scanned the premises before waving the rest of the squad in. 

They rolled into the room with all the grace of a James Bond movie. Pidge took to the edge of the counter, ducking down and peering around the edge as Lance ducked and rolled across the floor after her. He miscalculated the distance and wound up slapping his legs on the counter. The clash echoed across the entire room.

Keith waltzed in without a care, arms crossed. “Guys, no one’s here. Why are we being so dramatic?” he asked. 

Lance hissed in distain, “Well, you’d be a little dramatic too if you took that wanted poster seriously.”

Keith stopped near Pidge and Lance’s countertop, squinting down at Lance with a scoff. “As if you take it seriously. C’mon, let’s raid this place.”

Keith stepped ahead, and after a wary look at Pidge, Lance followed suit. Pidge slumped onto the ground with a not-so-subtle, “Ay caramba,” before sweeping up to her feet. 

Hunk squeaked in alarm, ducking low as he followed after them to the pantry door. Keith tried the handle, and the door failed to come free. Lance scanned his tablet, and they were countered with a blaring blue light of  _no-you-cannot-go-through-here_ .

“Fuck. Well, I guess that’s for the better,” Hunk said quickly as Pidge stepped forward to investigate the lock system. “I mean, if anyone could waltz in here someone could poison the food—we could all die so let’s just—”

“Do the thing with your bayard,” Lance said to Pidge. “Like at the roof access door.”

“I mean, unlocking Keith’s door wasn’t so hard…” she hummed.

Hunk bristled in horror, trying to shoo them away, but Keith merely hooked an arm around him and tugged him away with a firm pat on Hunk’s shoulder. “Buddy, this is for the greater good. And by ‘greater good’ I mean my stomach and cravings,” Keith declared. “And who knows what’s in there? Maybe they have cucumbers.”

“They don’t have cucumbers,” Hunk deadpanned, meeting Keith’s eager eyes. Keith shrugged, and Hunk narrowed his eyes. “But… they’ll probably have some interesting fungi in there…”

“And you know I could always go for a little fungi ‘cause I’m a  _fun-guy_ ,” Lance said, wiggling his eyebrows at Pidge, who muttered, “Oh brother. I can’t imagine you being high.”

Lance puffed his chest out confidently, and Keith’s insides swelled up with heat. He pushed away from Hunk, his skin flaring up and reminding him just why he tore his ruined Marmora suit off in the first place. Granted, running around naked wasn’t ideal, but he was so frustrated by the confines of clothes that he couldn’t help but revel in the thought.

Keith halted as Pidge succeeded in unlocking the door. How did his mind get from Lance to being naked so quickly? He put a hand to his forehead. He didn’t like the prospects of his mental state  _at all_ .

“Got it,” Pidge declared, swinging the door open. She slapped her hands together and rubbed them deviously. “Come to mamma!”

The four of them raced inside and began sorting through the shelving units. As they all dispersed, Keith went where his instincts told him to go and placed his hand on a panel in the wall. It illuminated blue and jolted. A section of the wall hissed out, and continued to move until reaching the opposite wall. Keith stared in amazement at the cube-shaped machine the shelving unit carried, and proceeded to sort through a crate of materials beside it. 

The cube blipped at him, flashing lights. He froze, staring at it as the top lifted and settled wide open. 

“Whoa, what’d you find?” Lance said, trapped on the other side of the unit Keith pulled out.

“No clue,” he confessed. “I can’t read any of this.”

Lance ducked down and plucked a piece of paper off of the cube. “Instructions. Hey Pidge?”

“Yeah?” she shouted from the opposite side of the room. She peaked her head out from where she was tucked between two crates. Lance held up the paper, and so Pidge wandered over with Hunk on her heels. Hunk peered into the cube to the circular bowl inside. There was a small divot in the center, and Keith watched from over Pidge’s shoulder as she flipped through diagrams instructing how the materials are inserted into it.

He ripped open a bag of white powder and smelled. He hummed in delight—just what he was looking for. “It’s sugary. Smell it,” he told Hunk, holding it out.

“Let’s try it,” he said. Hunk rolled his sleeves past his burly forearms and rolled his shoulders back. “Alright, Pidge, what’s the first step!”

They gathered out all of the materials—some sticks and a scoop. Hunk deposited the sugary substance into the center of the machine. Pidge started up the controls, and the center divot began spinning like mad. 

“You just let it go for a while. Something will start coming out and you’ll just whisk the stick around the bowl once that happens,” Pidge explained. They all watched in wonder as Hunk readied the stick, and awaited the opportunity to start stirring the liquid.

It never turned to liquid, though, and instead started emitting floaty wisps of white webs. Hunk caught it on the edge of the stick and began twirling it around. The instant he did, Lance started gasping in excitement. “I know what it is! I know what it is!” he cried, clapping his hands together. 

“Well tell us what the fuck it is,” Keith said.

“Cotton candy!” he shouted, and the realization dawned on all of them that they were stupid, and for once, Lance was the genius in the group.

The instant the ball of cotton candy ballooned into the perfect shape, Hunk handed it off to Keith, who felt the strong urge to cry. It ached behind his eyes and tightened his throat, reminding him of how long it’d been since he had something to eat that resembled  _something_ of his time on Earth. He reached his purple fingers to the puffy cloud Hunk handed him, and tore a peace off. 

Hunk was already spinning the next cotton candy ball, but Pidge and Lance were waiting expectantly for Keith to eat it. He wanted it so terribly, so why did he feel sick at the thought of eating it and never having it again? 

He laughed nervously instead. “Why are y’all looking at me like that?” he said, turning away with a pout. “It’s just candy.”

He popped it in his mouth and  _fuck_ , it wasn’t just candy. It was  _Heaven_ .

His knees turned to jello. He tripped and collapsed to his knees, falling forward onto his hand as he clutched the cotton candy in the other. Pidge cried out from beside Hunk, and Lance was trapped on the other side of the shelving mechanism, unable to assist.

“Keith! What’s the matter?! God, he’s allergic to it, isn’t he?!” Lance screamed.

Pidge got to her knees in front of Keith, crying, “Say something, you idiot!”

“It’s—” he started, looking up to her with glassy, tearful eyes. “It’s  _perfect_ .”

He twisted around to flop against the wall, rubbing his hands over his eyes. He cursed under his breath, his tongue still mid-orgasm from just that one taste. “ _Shit_ , that was so good,” he said. He held it out to Pidge, who took a pinch and plopped it into her mouth.

She was on the ground in an instant, forehead pressed to the cool tiles, fists clenched at her head. Lance was freaking out, demanding Hunk hand him a cotton candy. Pidge sobbed against the floor, “Sweet baby Jesus, it’s like I’ve never seen the pains of war. My acne is gone. I’m back at home.”

Lance soon had a cotton candy stick in his possession, and he tore into it immediately. He plucked a pocket of clouds from the stick and stuffed it into his mouth. He barely finished swallowing when he staggered, hand over his heart, gasping, “ _Bitch—_ ” before promptly performing a death-drop out of sight.

Hunk made another for Pidge, but she was already sharing Keith’s. Hunk settled beside them and began munching away with a satisfied hum. “Man, this is pretty good,” he said. “Reminds me of the county fairs back at home.”

“Maybe we’ll get to have some  _real_ Earth cotton candy when we get back,” Pidge said. “Though, who knows if it’s summer back home. My program for calculating the Earth days is kaput. Wormhole jumps fucked it up.”

“Sorry,” Keith said.

“Not your fault,” she sighed, plopping another cloud into her mouth. She moaned at the taste. “This is just what I needed. Thanks for finding this and reviving our souls.”

Keith shrugged and thumped Hunk on the chest. “He’s the real MVP,” he declared, and Hunk beamed in appreciation. 

Keith’s sugar tooth wasn’t satisfied after his first cotton candy he shared with Pidge, and so he dumped a heaping scoop-full of sugar into the machine as Lance watched form the opposite side, still munching on his own snack. Keith spiraled the white wisps around the stick and continued to do so as it doubled in size, tripled in size, and became a passive, condensed balloon that fanned out at the base where Keith’s fingers twirled the stick. 

He watched it expand with sheer, unadulterated conviction. The devious glint in his eyes only heightened as he reveled in the shadow of his creation. He hefted it overhead and laughed demonically before digging in, chin and cheeks collecting sugar crusts. He moaned at the taste and spun away, clasping his hands around it close to his heart. 

“I’m in love,” he declared.

“Oh God, not another lovestruck Galra,” Pidge groaned. She set a fresh stick into the bowl and began wicking up foaming sugar. “I can barely stand the one.”

“He Who Must Not Be Named must not be named,” Lance said. “This is a time of sugar and happiness.”

“Right, sorry,” she said. “It’s kind of hard to stop thinking about it.”

None of them could stop thinking about it, and so they drowned their worries in a vat of sugar, and continued to do so until the packet ran dry, and they were out of cotton candy materials. Keith’s heart was buzzing, flooding energy through his veins as they left the pantry. 

Every part of Keith was buzzing, actually. His brain was fluttering with thoughts and impulses that he chased out the kitchen door with the others racing after him. He leapt, arms up, and hollered down the hall like he and Lance did the day before. Lance followed suit, hooting after him and taking off with his feet off the ground.

On the ground floor, they swept into the center atrium striking invisible guitars as they skidded in on their knees. Lance grabbed Keith by the arms and spun him up to his feet, spinning round and round until their visions scattered and sent them sprawling on the ground. Pidge and Hunk caught up, gasping, when Lance stuck a hand into the air and said, “ _Pidge!_ You had music on your phone, right?”

“Yeah, I saved it to my computer,” she said, hands on her hips. “Why?”

“Rig it to the system. The whole facility,” he said, arcing both hands off the ground. “We’ll teach these fools a lesson on  _early 2000s music_ .”

Keith couldn’t have said it better. In fact, it was such a brilliant idea he could have kissed Lance. He nearly did, in fact, after clapping both hands onto Lance’s shoulders, leaning over him from where they’d both fallen on the ground. Lance turned his eyes away from Pidge to look at Keith, who came back to himself before he could follow the words of the imp that sang, shrill in his ears, “ _It don’t take a word—not a single word—go on and KISS THE BOY_ .”

As he leaned back, his brain started chanting on repeat, “ _SHALALALALALA MY OH MY! LOOK LIKE THE BOY TOO SHY—HE AIN’T GONNA KISS THE BOY—_ ” 

He clapped Lance on the shoulder again, giving him a shake. “I’ll do you one better,” he said, looking up to Pidge. “Microphones.”

“You want to sing?”

“No, all of us. With, like, the instrumentals in the back,” Keith said, getting to his feet. He did a little shimmy and struck a pose, fake microphone to his lips. “Sugar We’re Going Down—no other way to do it.”

“Man, you  _are_ emo,” Pidge said laughing. “Alright, fine. I can do it. Just give me a few minutes. We’ll use my tablet as the microphone.”

She passed it off to Keith, who then watched her run off in search of the control room. After all her work with Coran and Hunk on the teludav, she knew the ins and outs of the facility controls, so it didn’t take her long to get there, and to hook up her tablet’s security permissions with that of the control room’s. She typed in encrypted pin into the system and rerouted the input audio to the microphone on the tablet. She flipped the switch to put all the speakers in the facility on—all the way from the rooftop to sub-3, where Allura and Coran talked out of range from Lotor’s isolated cell. 

Allura and Coran blinked in confusion at the sound of incomprehensible chatter coming from the speakers. Allura looked up to it, and paled at the sound of Lance’s voice coming through, muffled, “ _Oh, you hear that? We’re on. Count of three, Pidge!_ ”

Coran stroked his mustache as Lance and, it seemed, Keith and Hunk began counting down. “Well, it seems all those wanted posters were corrected.”

Allura scowled at him, hands on her hips as she started marching for the elevators. “I’d been  _hoping_ they were just exaggerating. I really didn’t expect Keith to lose his mind like this.”

As Allura slammed her hand on the elevator panel, a clash of crystal-clear drums blast through the speakers, accompanied by fast, electric guitars strumming in synchrony—

“Oh  _quiznack_ ,” she seethed, expression twisting into a look of utter contempt for her childish paladins.

Meanwhile, Keith, Lance, and Hunk, high on sugar, head-hanged in the middle of the center atrium as workers stopped to stare at the speakers gone mad, and the paladins gone insane. At the lull of the guitar, Keith slammed his foot down and held Pidge’s tablet out between the three of them singing—

“ _[Am](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQ4ZngUSrZQ) I more than you bargained for yet—I’VE_ — _been dyin’ to tell you—ANYTHING, you wanna hear, ‘cause that’s-just-who-I-am-this-week—_ ”

Lance struck a chord on his invisible guitar as Hunk bounced to the beat, shaking his shoulders. The workers gathered round the atrium as Keith sang, “ _Lie in the grass, next to the maus-oleum_ …  _I’m just a NOTCH IN YOUR BEDPOST, but you’re just a LINE IN A SONG!”_

Lance and Hunk leant in, echoing the lyrics as Keith watched a split form in the crowd, startled works parting to the sight of a security guard pegging them down, and the weak-spined training arena worker pointing a finger at them from behind. 

“ _Drop a heart…_ ” Keith sang, slowly, staggering away from the atrium, “ _break a name_ …” 

He gestured frantically for Lance and Hunk to follow, and soon they were running, bursting through the crowd as the security guards ran at them, shouting at them to stop what they were doing “this instant!”

“ _We’re always SLEEPING IN, and we’re sleeping—for the wrong teeeam!_ ” Keith sang as he ran, laughing as workers in the corridors hollered encouragingly after them, the security team on their heels.

The drums drilled into the chorus, reaching its peak as they skidded up to the elevator, crashing into the half-opened door where Allura’s horrified shriek amplified across the facility. Lance slammed the doors shut after them as Keith banged his head to the sound of, “ _WE’RE GOIN’ DOWN, DOWN IN AN EARLIER ROUND—_ ”

The elevator shook as Keith and Lance jumped to the lyrics, sharing the tablet as they went up floor by floor with Allura begging desperately that they stop what they’re doing. Keith dropped low, hips swinging as Hunk put his hands to his forehead crying, “This is the craziest concert I’ve ever been to.”

The elevator door pinged at the top. Workers had gathered around the atrium railing, and were startled to find the singers themselves emerging on their floor. Commotion erupted as lower levels watched Keith prowl up to the railing, throwing his hair back before pointing at a random passerby across the atrium from him.

“ _Is this more—than you—bargained for yet—OH, don’t mind me I’m watchin’—_ ” He rocked his hips, dragging a hand down his side before grabbing hold of the railing pillar and looking back at Lance, who stared, red-faced from where Allura had her hands over her cheeks, and Hunk had his over his eyes. 

A gust of air kicked up from below them, and Keith looked to find the lift raising up. He gestured to Lance, still singing as Lance urged Hunk to set the lift back down. Unfortunately, though, the lift was carrying the entire security team.

“ _Shit_ ,” Keith squeaked, backing away from the railing. He took off around the atrium with Lance at his heels. “ _Drop a heart… Break a name…_ ” he sang in a panic, skidding around people and looking frantically to where Hunk seemed to have gotten the general gist of things and approached the now-empty lift. 

At the first opportunity he could manage, he went for the pillar and climbed up to the railing. Nearby workers shrieked in terror as Lance climbed up the opposite side, grinning at Keith around the column, before they jumped for the funneled top of the lift. Keith could swear he heard Allura screaming. 

Keith scrambled for purchase on the pole, pressing his chest to it as Lance sang into the mic and pointed a finger at Hunk, who shook his head frantically from the controls. “ _Do the thing, Hunk!_ ” Lance shouted as the security guards picked up on what was happening, and instead ran after Hunk.

In Hunk’s panic, he slammed the button, and the lift began its rapid descent with Lance and Keith on top.

Lance wrapped his arms around the pole and Keith, clutching tightly as gravity surged around them to the sound of Keith singing, “ _Down, down in an earlier round, and Sugar we’re goin’ down swingin’—OH GOD—I’ll-be-your-number-onewiththebulletAloadedGodcomplexcockitandpullIIIEEEEEET!”_

At the ground level, the atrium floor opened up to reveal the sublevel units where they dropped lower and lower before at once collecting their breaths at the bottom of the lift shaft. Keith gasped against the pole, shutting Pidge’s tablet off and pocketing it as he struggled to unfurl himself from the pole. He was stuck in Lance’s arms, and after such a crazy ride, he nearly forgot to panic over it. A flush of heat crashed over him in a massive, all-powerful wave that forced him to focus his attention on where Lance’s bare forearms hooked onto his waist, and where his hair tickled Keith’s cheek.

“Fuck,” Keith wheezed.

“Dude, I know right,” Lance laughed, and the instant he unlatched his arms, he was slipping from the funnel roof. He screamed and collapsed off the side of the lift, rolling out onto the concrete floor with a groan of agony.

Keith lowered himself to his bum and slid down the funnel roof. He jumped and landed a few paces from Lance, who groaned and held a thumbs up from where he was still face-first on the ground. “I’m good,” he groaned. 

Keith helped Lance to his feet and gave him a firm pat on the back just before they were confronted by one of the managers in the lift operating system. Keith worked all of the sugar out of his system from that adventure, so he complied to sit on the concrete ledge surrounding the lift as they awaited their court date with destiny.

Sure enough, as soon as racket started up in the lift room corridor, they heard Allura’s voice above them all insisting that she speak with the paladins first. The security guards let her pass, and soon Lance and Keith were shrinking at the sight of her fury blazing a path across the room.

“Have you two completely lost your minds?!” she cried, arms in the air. “You’re Paladins of Voltron, not a traveling circus act!”

“They have circuses in space?” Lance asked, and the look on Allura’s face came damn near close to killing him. “Right, sorry. Of course there are.”

She turned to Keith. “I know you’re going through some bodily changes presently, but that does not excuse your behavior and they way you’ve been treating the workers. I’ve gotten multiple complaints about something to do with flooding the  _training arena?_ ”

“There’s a pool option!” he cried. “I’m not flooding anything!”

“The pool option only works when you properly set the drainage!” she rebuked. Keith shrunk, wincing. Shit.

Allura stood back on her heels, arms crossed. She eyed them both furiously before turning her glare on the worker tasked with watching over them. The worker flinched, bowing their head. She jabbed a finger at Keith. “You are not to leave your dorm until the teludav is finished. Coran says they’re two days off, and I won’t have you hindering our progress. Lance, I never expected Keith to be a bad influence on you, but that seems to be how it is. You’re sticking with Pidge and Hunk.”

“What? No fair! Keith and I were just having fun!” Lance whined, withering as Allura’s gaze hardened, jaw clenched tight. Lance looked desperately to Keith, who folded his arms tight around to his torso and refused to look up from his lap. “Alright. Fine, whatever. I’ll stick with Hunk and Pidge.”

“Good,” Allura said. “Now, I have to go take care of rectifying the damage the ship caused. If I hear either of you stepped out of line again, you’ll hear from me.”

As she turned on her heels and left, both Keith and Lance grimaced at the threat. Keith’s eyes trailed after her receding form until she stopped at the group of security guards. He caught wind of her ordering them to escort Keith back to his dorm, and to change the permissions on his room panel. 

Once Allura was gone, one of the security guards came over to summon Keith, who rose to his feet and followed without hassle. They hooked a hand to Keith’s wrist, pulling him along and back to where this tomfoolery started. He was surprised to find the workers on the upper floor, though, smiling when they saw Keith being escorted to his dorm. He couldn’t find it in him to smile, especially not when they turned the corner and found Krolia and Romelle waiting for him there.

“Mom,” Keith said, desperately hoping that this wasn’t what it looked like. The guard’s uniform said enough, though, as well as the look on her face. “I know I messed up, but—”

Krolia raised a hand to him and turned a stern look onto the guard. “I can take him from here.”

“I just need to adjust his dorm’s system and I’ll be on my way,” the guard promised, walking ahead. As the guard pulled out the panel beside Keith’s dorm, Romelle stepped up to where Krolia crossed her arms and waited silently for the guard to walk off.

“What was all that on the speaker system?” Romelle asked, smiling. “I’ve never heard anything like that before.”

“It’s called rock music,” he said. “I don’t know what sort of music they have in the colony, but…”

“Nothing like that!” she cried, clutching her hands in front of her. “Do you have any others? I’d love to hear more.”

“Maybe talk to Pidge about that,” he said, a tense grin spreading across his cheeks. 

The panel by his door clicked shut, and the guard walked off with a meager wave to Krolia. Krolia watched after him before at last addressing Keith. “I’m not angry with you,” she said. Keith stole a glance up at her, afraid to see her expression say otherwise, but instead he found a small, amused grin on her lips. “But I would like to ask what all that was about. Can’t say I’ve ever witnessed such a racket. I’m sure people around here will be talking about that for months.”

Keith laughed, first from all the nerves, and then from genuine relief. “Well, I’m glad you guys thought it was cool. Allura’s pissed at me. Something about being an awful guest.”

“You are an awful guest,” Krolia agreed, ruffling his hair. “I’ll bring dinner up for you. I’m on guard duty until then.”

She walked off, and Keith watched after her before realizing that Romelle had stayed close, unwilling to see Lotor again. He turned back to her, and offered a weak farewell before heading to his opened door. He made it to the threshold when Romelle’s footsteps followed after him.

“Keith, wait,” she said, and hesitated as he turned back to her. She twisted her hands around the sash over her waist, fingers tugging at the buttons. He lifted his eyes from the motion, to her strained expression. “I’m worried,” she confessed.

“About Lotor?” he asked. She gave no clue to it, but he knew. “He can’t get out, and even if he did my mom can handle him.”

“It’s not about him getting out,” she confessed, shaking her head. “I’m worried that we’ve missed something. I’ve been thinking back to everything and—Why didn’t he detain me? Why didn’t he stop me if he knew I was at the crash site?”

“He knew your people wouldn’t believe you, even if you did say anything,” Keith insisted, reaching out to touch her shoulder. 

“But after generations of this, wouldn’t he know a threat when he saw one?” she asked, raising her eyes up to his. “He could have given me a false positive test just to remove me from the colony entirely. He could have done any number of things.”

“He already had the Sincline ships in production. He didn’t need anymore quintessence from Alteans,” he offered, but Romelle seemed unconvinced.

He leant away, brow furrowing. He thought about how he had found Romelle, the abandoned facility they and the other Alteans were housed in. He swore he saw something like it before. Perhaps in the Castle? But everything in the Castle had been powered by—

“Quintessence,” he gasped, looking to Romelle. “He powered the safe-haven with quintessence.”

Romelle stared at him as though he’d gone mad. “What are you saying?”

“The Castle ship ran on Bulmerian crystals filled with quintessence—they housed Kaltenecker in a portal realm like the haven you and the colony stayed in,” Keith explained, pulling out his tablet. He began sifting through messages he and Pidge had shared during those times. “Pidge explained it to me—Allura’s father used to keep memories in portal realms like it, but they were just that—memory projections. Kaltenecker’s realm had  _life_ in it. The only way to do that would be through—”

“Quintessence,” she said, eyes wide. “Are you saying Lotor kept us alive by sacrificing members of the colony.”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, hand to his head. “I—You’d have to ask him. I can’t go down there. I’m supposed to stay in my room.”

He hesitated, brow furrowed in the direction of his empty room. “Emphasis on  _supposed to be_ .”

“I can’t talk to him,” she insisted, shaking her head. “I’d lose my temper in an instant. I can’t stand to see his face again. Besides, even if it was to keep the colony alive, why couldn’t he have obtained quintessence elsewhere? Why not let us live on the planet freely and let the environment fuel itself?”

“It doesn’t make sense. The planet was dead when we got there,” Keith confessed.

“Nothing quite makes sense anymore,” she confessed, shaking her head. She lifted her chin resolutely, and nodded to Keith. “But thank you for listening to me. I’m not sure what we might accomplish with this, but it’s a good start. And perhaps now we can finally get some answers.”

_God, I hope so_ , he thought, watching as she hurried off down the corridor hall, and out of sight. _I’ll lose my mind if we have to deal with anymore bullshit from Lotor, though_ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I drew art of Keith's additional scars from the fic!](http://girlskylark.tumblr.com/post/175246923820/more-than-you-bargained-for-if-ya-like-my-stuff)
> 
> Also, if any of y'all have more shenanigan ideas, feel free to send 'em to me :D IDK how many more chapters I'm gonna write of this, so I'm gonna keep it tagged complete just in case.


	6. 1.6 || Phase Three...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith only dates bird doctors. I don't make the rules.

It didn’t take long for Keith to become sick of his own company. There wasn’t much he could do (well, there were a  _few things_ he could think of, but today wasn’t the day) without leaving the room. He could barely stand the confines of his own mind, but the inception of being stuck in a room amplified the effects of the cycle. His thoughts spiraled in circles of anxiety and impulses that ranged from cotton candy to joyriding an Olkari cruiser to  _sneaking into Lance’s room for nothing more than to stare at him while he slept_ —

Keith sat up in his bed, hand over his mouth, knees up to his chest. 

“Oh God, what am I becoming,” he whispered to himself.

Just as he was debating the chances of needing electroshock therapy, a knock sounded on his door. He glanced at it, eyes wide in confusion. No one was supposed to come by his room. Allura even posted it in the group chat an explicit new rule to stay  _away_ from Keith’s room until further notice. He checked his phone. No further notice had been issued.

“ _Psst_ ,” a voice hissed from the other side of the door. Keith leapt up and hurried to it, pressing his ear to the crack in the panel. “ _Psst, Keith, it’s me_ .” 

“Oh my God,  _Lance_ ? What the Hell man,” Keith said.

“ _Sh!_ _You gotta be quiet_ ,” Lance hissed, muffled through the door. “ _I’m gonna buzz myself in, alright?_ ”

“I mean, I guess, but—” Keith started, only to panic at the thoughts he was just experiencing no less than five minutes ago. “Shit, no, don’t come in here—”

It was too late. Lance fell quiet as he worked on editing the permissions. He heard muffled chatter on the other side—Lance talking to Pidge no doubt over the phone. The panel buzzed, and a blue light flooded up the center of the door. It split open, and instantly Lance shoved the panel back into the wall and spun in like he was in a crime movie. He ducked low and nudged himself against the wall next to the panel he pushed to close the door behind him. 

Lance stared at Keith, who stared back in horror. “Dude, you shouldn’t be in here,” Keith started. “Allura’s right—I’m going crazy—”

“Yeah,  _stir-crazy._ And I’m gonna fix that,” Lance declared. “We’re watching a movie.”

Keith was still shaking his head when Lance plopped onto Keith’s bed and whipped out two white sticks from his back pocket. Keith did a double-take and uttered a confused, “Uh…” before Lance slapped one on the wall of Keith’s bed pod, and the other several inches below it.

Lance pressed a button on the bottom stick, and light flooded up to meet the one stuck parallel to it. An image flashed across the screen, and what appeared to be a  _home menu_ popped onto Keith’s pod wall. Lance turned to Keith, triumphant and entirely too pleased with himself. 

“What even…” Keith started, looking back at the door, still rooted in the center of the room, far from Lance. He started to back up to the opposite wall. His brain was telling him to do crazy,  _crazy_ things and he couldn’t spare a second listening to them. If he did, he’d lose every shot. He wasn’t sure what he was aiming for, but the target would be gone before he had the chance to figure it out.

Lance hesitated at the panic in Keith’s eyes. He straightened up, leaning over the edge of Keith’s bed pod. “Dude, what’s up? You looked a little freaked out.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Keith insisted, shaking his head. He clutched at his shirt— _Lance’s_ shirt—and begged his mind to make peace with the rest of him. 

“Is it the impulses?” Lance asked, and every muscle tightened in Keith’s throat. He nearly shook his head, but he’d be lying then. It wasn’t like he hadn’t lied before. “Keith, it’s okay. I promise, alright? Any active person would lose their mind being cooped up for so long.”

It’d been nearly a day. Keith continued to get updates on the teludav, mostly from Lance, some from Hunk, because Hunk felt guilty. But Lance was right—Keith was used to being up and about. He hadn’t sat this still without stimulation in… he didn’t know  _how long_ .

“I’m afraid of doing something stupid again,” Keith insisted. “Don’t give me a reason to.”

“I’m not giving you a reason to,” Lance said, but he didn’t know what he was talking about. “Do you want me to stay?”

Keith looked back up at him from where he’d been staring at Lance’s feet. Lance raised his eyebrows expectantly, and all the air in Keith’s lungs slipped out with a simple, “Yes _.”_

Lance’s lips spread into a smile. “Then get over here, you dumb piece of lard.”

Keith took a hesitant step forward and couldn’t stop. At the edge of the pod, Lance spun back around and settled in near the wall. Keith gestured for him to move, and claimed that spot himself. He’d just cling to the wall, and if Lance needed an escape route, it was waiting for him right there. Lance glanced at Keith once more before climbing to the end of the bed and starting the movie where the screen blocks were posted. He settled at the head of the bed beside Keith and offered a brilliant smile as the beginning credits rolled. Everything was translated.

“Pidge hacked into some Galra entertainment hub and stole a bunch of movies,” he explained, proud as if he’d done it himself.

Keith gasped in both amazement and horror. “The Galra have  _movies?_ My mom never mentioned anything like that before.”

“Dude yeah, there’s a surprisingly large amount of Galran actors out there,” he confessed, tipping his head to the side with a pout. “Granted, Pidge said a lot of them were Empire propaganda, so I already sifted through the entire batch she hijacked. I picked out all the romcoms.”

“You did not.”

“I did.”

“I’ve only ever watched  _Star Wars_ and, like,  _Star Trek_ .”

“You know, that says a lot about you as a person, or lack thereof.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. For one, you don’t appreciate the art of a good romance,” Lance said with a flare of jazz hands. “You can’t depend your social skills exclusively on entertainment created by privileged white guys, you know what I’m saying?”

“Are you calling me white?”

“I’m calling you  _uncultured_ .” 

Keith laughed out of offense, staring ahead at the screen as Lance snickered beside him. “ _Uncultured_ , he says,” he mocked, and earned a shove in the shoulder for it.

The dialogue started, and Keith was at a loss. Lance seemed perfectly satisfied with the fact that everything was in  _English_ , somehow, but Keith spent nearly the entire movie wondering where the Galra kept these English voice actors captive. The only semblance of a plot he gathered was gleaned from Lance fangirling over random shit, like the badass female protagonist, to the badass male love interest. Keith rolled his eyes and thought to himself in the voice of Pidge saying, “ _Oh brother_ .”

All-in-all, the movie centered around a flight school in which two siblings—the badass female protagonist and her younger sibling—were daughters to the leading flight officer in the program. Keith rolled his eyes at the shitty graphics and hissed, “Why couldn’t they have used an  _actual set_ . They have plenty of them just lying around the universe!”

“It’s an  _indie film_ ,” Lance whined. “Appreciate the  _acting_ .”

Keith huffed, crossing his arms and settling back. His shoulder brushed up against Lance’s as he relaxed back against the pillows, and convinced himself that he  _wouldn’t do anything_ .

“ _It’s normal for people my age to date—to_ want _to date!_ ” the sister cried, much to the amusement of her pragmatic sister. “ _You can’t control us any more than you can the junior cohorts_ .”

“ _The fact that I agree with him makes the whole ‘controlling’ aspect a little hazy to me_ ,” the protagonist said. “ _Recheck your priorities. Last I remembered we’re fighting for Emperor Zarkon, not the number of guys we blow_ .”

“This is so much better than PG-13,” Lance giggled, kicking a leg out with a hoot. 

“Yeah, the pop culture references are a bit off now. When was this made?” Keith asked, and Lance shrugged. “Wait, so what’s the dad’s beef with them not dating?”

“I dunno. Patriarchal need to control their daughter’s vaginas? I don’t fucking care,” Lance said with a huff. “Think  _10 Things I Hate About You_ , but with an intergalactic furry Empire.”

“Do you think the Galra can be gay?” Keith asked truthfully, and Lance seemed distracted by the dialogue on screen, so Keith repeated the question.

“No, no, I heard you. I’m just…” he said, laughing. He put a hand to his forehead and laughed, looking absolutely appalled. “I… thought you were gay?”

Keith tipped his head curiously, and watched as Lance’s cheeks flooded with color. He watched Lance swallow hard and clear his throat, looking away from the screen. Keith shook his head dumbly. “What?”

Lance put a hand to his face and laughed miserably. “Ah, sorry, this is awkward.” He sat up straighter, and before Keith could even think straight (or gay, for that matter), Lance was swinging his legs out of the pod and aborting. 

The movie was still playing as Lance went to the bedroom door and smashed his hand onto the panel to open it with his tablet permissions. Unlike Keith’s efforts, the door opened just fine for Lance, and they caught the obvious, telltale sign of Allura’s voice ringing down the corridor with Romelle at her side. Lance shrieked in terror of being caught, and shut the door immediately, pressing his back flat against it.

Keith stared at Lance from the bed, eyes wide. “What?” he said again.

Lance was red from his neck up, blue eyes stretched wide. He tried to talk, but his voice failed him until he took a calming breath and blurted out all at once: 

“It’sjustthatI’vebeenflirtingwithyoutheentiretimewe’vebeenhere.”

“Flirting? What? You’ve lost me,” Keith said, sliding off the bed. He stepped towards Lance, who covered his face and shook his head. 

“I’ve… been  _flirting with you_ since we  _got here_ . And I thought… you were really into it but… I guess we barely even know each other,” Lance said, slumping his hands to his sides. He pouted up at Keith, who couldn’t be sure what he looked like then. Perhaps a mix of joy, maybe hope? But whatever Lance saw hindered his confidence. “I guess… war just brought us together. And with your whole cycle, you probably don’t want to deal with this drama right now. I’ll leave as soon as the coast’s clear, and we don’t have to talk about this again.”

“You’re right,” Keith said. “We barely know each other. But since we got here, all my impulses are telling me to—”

“What?” Lance said, lifting his eyes from where he had them stuck on the V-collar of Keith’s shirt— _his_ shirt. He followed the motion of Keith’s bobbing Adam’s apple, to the lip he worried between his teeth.

Keith’s hand reached up, pausing just inches from Lance’s flushed cheeks and shining eyes. He paused at the sight of his one purple hand, scarred from the Sincline ship blast, and remembered to check his impulse imp shaking him by the shoulders, screaming, “ _What are you doing man?! Do it already!_ ”

Lance’s shoulders bunched up in anticipation as Keith hovered his fingers down the column of his throat, to the hem of his shirt, ghosting over his shoulders. 

“I just…” Keith started, voice rasping, “really want to hug you right now.”

He looked up to watch Lance startle, his expressive eyebrows rocketing to his hairline. Keith clenched his fists over Lance’s shoulders, resting them lightly atop Lance’s soft, copper skin. 

“Is that okay?” 

Light flooded through Lance’s expression, lifting his lips into an eager smile. “Yeah! Yeah, definitely. Dude, yes, oh my God let’s do it,” he cried, leaping forward to tackle Keith around the torso. Keith was too shocked to do anything, fists still clenched where Lance’s shoulders used to be. Almost robotically, he closed them around Lance’s neck.

A shudder rolled up Keith’s spine, and he felt Lance’s soft, button nose push into the flesh of his neck. He tightened his hold on Lance, gasping out a tight, restrained breath. Eventually, he was able to breath in relief.

Lance sighed a curse, giving Keith a squeeze. “Affection is my middle name,” he said, muffled against Keith’s collarbone. “But you never answered the question.”

“Which one?”

Lance laughed, shaking his head so his hair tickled Keith’s ear. “ _All of them_ . I have so many questions. Is this just the cycle?”

The imps were telling him  _no_ , no it  _wasn’t_ just the cycle, but where could Keith start? Where  _did_ it start? As a teenager, his want for affection flew rampant. Crushes were easily developed, but none followed through. But now? War changed him. Responsibility did, too, especially after Shiro left. War changed Lance, too, from what Keith could understand. 

“No,” he decided, reminded of how his heart skipped even before all this, when it was easier to ignore those little things. “You?”

“I don’t know. Seeing you come back I just… I realized how much I missed having you on the team. And with… fake-Shiro being fake-Shiro I kinda wanted it to be, you know, us. Leading Voltron, I mean,” Lance said. He shrugged. “I really liked when we were first red and black. It was a shitshow, but even if you hated it, you were really something else.”

“Something else, alright. Responsibility isn’t my strong suit,” he huffed, reminded of how at first notice of Shiro being back, he vanished. “Too much at one time.”

They fell quiet to the sound of the movie still playing. Keith pulled away slightly, backing towards the pod with Lance following after him. The sound of Allura and Romelle talking had long since passed, but Lance had no intention of leaving now.

Keith bounced back on the bed, and laughed when Lance rolled straight into his chest and settled in with his arms hooked around Keith’s shoulders. 

“And yes,” Keith said as Lance nestled in with his chin perched on Keith’s shoulder. Lance tipped his head to the side, and Keith looked at him. “I’m gay.”

Lance snorted. “That’s good to know. So yeah, I guess some Galra  _can_ be gay…”

Keith laughed, propping a leg up as he looked back to the screen where a heterosexual couple was making out at a house party. The camera panned to the badass female protagonist as she tipped back a glass of who-knows-what. The boy she was with suggested she’d had enough alcohol, but she floated away, decreeing, “ _Nope, this one’s mine!_ ” and downed the next shot.

Keith’s insides were warm and bubbly, and it became increasingly difficult to stop himself from ignoring the movie and watching Lance instead. Lance butted his head up against Keith’s collarbone like a fucking cat, and settled in, eyes drifting lower and lower until, near the peak of the movie, he fell asleep.

Keith closed the pod up and used his foot to shut off the movie. Lance’s soft breath tickled his neck as he wrapped his arms around Lance and willed sleep to consume him.

 

***

 

Heavy knocking sounded on Keith’s bedroom door the following morning, and was accompanied by the harmonic tune of Hunk singing, “ _Keeeith! I come bearing breakfaaast!_ ”

Keith groaned, pushing his lips against the soft, fluffy texture of Lance’s brunette hair. “I don’t want it…” he called out, but to no avail. Hunk continued knocking until Lance shifted and detached his arms from around Keith.

“Just… go answer him,” Lance said.

Keith slapped a hand on the pod wall and it slid up. He groaned as he climbed over Lance and dropped his feet to the ground, clammy from being stuck in the pod with Lance’s body heat all night. He closed the pod opening before telling Hunk he was decent.

Hunk opened the door and twirled in with a tray between his hands, and a smile on his face. “Mornin’ partner!” he said, ducking low onto one knee, tray raised high. “For you.”

“Gee, thanks Hunk,” Keith said dully, accepting the tray. “Where are you off to after this?”

“Lance’s room, and then breakfast. Most of the team’s already down there. Your mom says hi, and I fought her to bring you this,” he said, rising up to his feet with a curious pout. “Alright, so I didn’t fight her. We just had a friendly debate.”

Keith laughed. “Right, right.”

Hunk fiddled with his hands over the hem of his shirt and swayed his shoulders to and fro. “And… I wanted to apologize. It’s kind of my fault you guys got caught.”

“No, dude, it’s fine,” Keith said, shocked that Hunk even thought that. “We were gonna get caught anyways. And you hit the button, dude! You saved us, like, five minutes. It was awesome. You were badass.”

“You think?” Hunk squeaked, upping up hopefully at Keith, who laughed at Hunk’s obliviousness.

“Yeah! You’re fine, man.” Keith slapped him on the arm. They beamed at one another before Hunk declared that he better get going, but promised that the teludav would be done before they knew it. 

Before Hunk could disappear entirely, Keith’s tablet buzzed, and Hunk turned back to watch Keith squint at the screen in confusion. A message from… Lance. He refrained from looking to the pod. “Lance…” Keith started, looking to Hunk. “Lance says he’s that he just left for breakfast.”

“What? Without me?” Hunk squeaked.

Keith shrugged, because all he could think about was the fact that Lance most certainly  _hadn’t_ left for breakfast. In fact, Keith could bet his entire life’s savings on Lance being in the bed pod. In a panic, Keith’s impulses rigged together a flimsy, shitty story that came out of his mouth like:

“I dunno. Maybe he’s upset with you.”

It was the wrong thing to say and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. Hunk stared at him, and Keith almost hoped he’d laugh it off, but instead, Hunk’s eyes turned watery. “Really? Did he say something to you?” Hunk begged.

“No, I just—”

“I didn’t see him at all last night! I forgot to say goodnight to him!”

“Hunk, I’m sure it’s okay—”

“Lance and I have said goodnight to each other every night since we started rooming together at the Garrison,” Hunk said sternly, clasping onto Keith’s wrist on the hand he held his tablet in. Keith stared at him in alarm as Hunk stared back, horrified. “I—I need to go and apologize to him.”

With that, Hunk ran off screaming, “ _Lance! Lance, buddy, I’m sorry!_ ” as Keith struggled to catch his breath. He stood, frozen, in the middle of his room as his bedroom door shut, and the pod opened to a very annoyed, and very disappointed Lance.

“Way to go, asshat,” Lance said.

“I just—It was the first thing to come to mind,” Keith confessed miserably. “I didn’t mean to make Hunk upset.”

Lance rolled his eyes and slumped to the door. “I’ll see you later. I’ve got to beat Hunk to the commissary now.”

The instant the doors opened, Lance was jogging off, heading for the elevator. Keith went to stand in the threshold and watch after him, a scowl on his face. He tugged at his shirt, reminded of how uncomfortable the fabric felt now. He hated that he was missing the auto-adjust material.

Keith went for his Marmora suit, the door still open from Lance’s disappearance. He undressed to his underwear and pulled the suit up. It latched into place and sucked in the excess material. He stretched his limbs with a sigh. He felt like he was naked, but it’d have to do. It was better than scratchy material now. 

He went to the threshold again and double-checked that Allura wasn’t watching from afar with those intense, disapproving eyes of hers. He checked his tablet notifications before shutting the screen down and latching the end frames onto his belt.Nothing new. The teludav would be done today, and with the forest repaired, they’d be leaving by nightfall. He still had a few things to take care of before then, house-arrest be damned.

It’d be obvious that Keith was gone, should anyone walk by his room. The door remained opened as he walked calmly to the elevator. He summoned his mask as he passed workers, and hoped he looked like any other Marmora member. Thankfully, no worker looked twice, and so he was in the clear from the dorm floor to the ground level. He exited the building without a hitch.

_Phase One complete_ , he mused, grinning behind his mask as he walked from the facility to the medical center Shiro was being kept at.

Keith walked casually through the front door, and followed the familiar signs to the steps that brought him to Shiro’s floor. He stared down the pristine white corridor, and listened for the sounds of workers or patients. When nothing touched his ears, he continued on, footsteps silent across the tiles. He looked into vacant rooms down the corridor before reaching Shiro’s room where his medical pod sat idly in the Olkari sunlight, surrounded by white.

Keith hesitated at the threshold, a hand on the doorframe. He looked back down the hall before stepping forward. 

His mind supplied an image that sent him halting several paces from Shiro. He recalled the magenta pods surrounding him, flicking on one-by-one with the faces of Shiro beyond every rounded glass pane. Keith swallowed hard, looking down at Shiro’s grey-white hair. Anything he wanted to say vanished at the sight, but for once, the intensely immaculate interior of this Olkari hospital helped to shed the image of Galran tech from his mind.

He reached for Shiro’s pod and ran his hand over the back of the pod. It wasn’t connected to Olkari machinery anymore. Keith straightened with a sigh, slipping in-between the wall and the pod. He nudged it forward with his foot, dislodging it from its docking station. 

Shiro’s pod rolled forward, and spun as commanded. Keith twisted around behind it, and moved them forward, though the door, down the hall, and to the elevator where Keith would stand alongside an unconscious Shiro until reaching the ground level. Music played on the speakers—Mozart, perhaps? Keith couldn’t really recall. He wasn’t much of a classics guy.

The elevator doors slid open, and Keith pushed Shiro’s pod out like a delivery man liberating a cart full of Goods™. No one seemed to think twice about it, though the Olkari at the front desk did a double take at the sight of Shiro behind the pod glass. Keith waved amiably to them before walking straight through the entryway, and out onto the streets. 

_Phase Two complete_ .

Keith turned Shiro onto the sidewalk and walked down the length of the hospital parallel to the facility. He looked up at the skyscrapers as he walked by, casually strolling amidst their shadows with Shiro’s pod in front of him. He looked down at Shiro’s sleeping face and smiled despite himself.

The sounds of the city echoed around them from block-to-block, from street-to-street. Construction was a constant effort on Olkari, and the main city they resided in was no different. Expansion and renovation after the Galra occupancy put the entire city into a widespread construction era filled with vigorous workers hoping to scrub any evidence of Galra away from the Olkari surface. Keith found a spot to watch it all, perched on a ledge with Shiro at his side. He leant an elbow against Shiro’s pod and sighed.

“Allura put me on house arrest,” he confessed, glancing down at Shiro. The man’s expression didn’t change. He looked back at the lift rigged against the side of the building, hoisting massive white panels up to the building surface. “I’m supposed to be in my dorm. I… may or may not have introduced the Olkari population to Fall Out Boy.”

He laughed to himself, rolling his eyes. “ _Which_ , in retrospect, is not the worst band in existence for aliens to apply to us. I mean, they’re good, right? Like, classic FOB?”

He drummed his fingers on the glass pane, thinking of his distant past—another life, really—when he and Shiro listened to Fall Out Boy on a  _cassette tape_ . But now Shiro looked like he’d been through Hell and back, and Keith was still there. Stuck on Olkari without a listener who knew him before all this. 

Keith wrapped his arm further over the case, and pressed his cheek to the glass. From afar, he looked like he was sleeping, but really, he had his eyepiece pressed to the glass, peering in at Shiro through that purple lens. 

“I… also maybe flooded the training arena. Twice.” He rolled his eyes with a scoff. “They cleaned it up fine… but Allura’s still mad about it. I don’t know if you’d be mad at me for it. Maybe you would have thought it was funny.”

_A while ago, maybe_ , his mind supplied, reminding him of how the Galra had changed Shiro after imprisonment. 

Keith watched a stranger walk by and give him an odd stare in passing. Keith’s eyes followed them before returning to Shiro’s pod. His lungs burned, and he blamed it on the atmosphere, but he knew it was just his mind overworking itself, and insisting his heart needed to run a mile a minute. He twisted his hands together over the class, pressing his forehead to it as he cleared his throat.

“And… Lance stayed the night last night,” he whispered, looking up to see Shiro’s reaction. He didn’t get anything. “We watched a movie. It was… _really_ nice. Kinda ruined it this morning, though. I lied trying to cover for Lance, and now Hunk thinks Lance hates him.”

Saying it out loud triggered a drop in Keith’s internal atmosphere. Gravity seemed to effect him more, pushing him down, slumping against Shiro’s pod. Depression seeped in, reminding him that while last night happened, this morning happened, too. Which also meant that Lance almost certainly hated him now for ruining his friendship with Hunk.

“I can’t do anything right,” Keith said through a shaky sigh, because what if Hunk and Lance  _never_ made up? Rationally, he knew it was preposterous, but the possibility was  _there_ !

He straightened with a deep, shaking inhale, heat swelling behind his eyes. Despite how much he chanted  _don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry_ to himself, his eyes began to water. He needed to stop thinking about this ASAP or risk waterworks in front of his unconscious friend and a slew of complete strangers. 

He stood up fast, head swimming, and tugged Shiro’s pod by the end handle like a child carting a wagon around town. He slumped down the ramp and dragged Shiro along to the nearest food stand. Keith ordered the only thing on display that looked like it came from Earth, and had the cashier scan his tablet. Allura, of course, would be able to see that he purchased something, but he guessed that she wasn’t monitoring that at the moment. He’d have at least another few hours before someone would notice his room was empty before Allura commented a full scale search of the facility, only to get word that Shiro was missing from his hospital room.

And this… was exactly what happened.

Lance returned to the dorm floor with Hunk and Pidge in tow. They were waiting for the teludav system to process, and loading it would take a good hour, so they occupied themselves with packing the few things they brought with them. As they walked further down the hall, and noted the wide open door across the hall from Lance’s dorm, Pidge pursed her lips and pointed to it.

“Did… Keith make an escape?” she asked.

Lance frowned and leaned into Keith’s room. The pod was open, and empty, and the remainder of the room was quiet. Hunk leaned around him to see, and likewise, Pidge leaned around Hunk.

“Oh geez,” Hunk squeaked. “Allura’s gonna be so mad…”

Hunk was correct (as always), because the moment they met Allura in the underground levels of the facility, she could see the tension on all of their faces, waiting for her to explode.

She put her hands on her hips. “What is it? You all look nervous.”

Lance grimaced, clasping his hands in front of his chest as he said, “So… I just want to say that this  _isn’t my fault—_ ”

“Duly noted,” she drawled, eyes narrowing.

“—But Keith disappeared. He’s not in his room,” he finished, and instantly, Allura’s semi-calm facade cracked. Her left eye twitched, and Lance swore he heard Pidge squeak in terror. 

Allura balled her fists up at her sides, thrusting them down with an exasperated, “I  _knew_ we should have gotten him a cell! Krolia told me he would be fine in his room, but  _no_ —!”

“What? You wanted to lock him up?” Hunk cried, horrified, but Allura was on a rampage. Lance stared, wide-eyed, as Allura stormed past them and called to nearby workers to start a search for the Black Paladin—in all corners of the facility.

The sweep started below ground, and curved up to the higher levels. The training room, the laundry room, the commissary all showed up empty as Allura and the other paladins preceded the event. Lance scratched a hand against his hair as he watched yet another team return to Allura empty-handed. He tried to think of where Keith would go, but all their usual hangout spots were vacant, no sign of Keith anywhere. 

“Lance,” Allura said, and her authoritative voice nearly had him saluting her.

“Yeah?”

She stepped up to him, displeased. “You were with Keith the most. Where would he have gone? We checked the spots you suggested. There must be  _something_ else.”

Lance shrugged, helpless. “If… he was going stir-crazy, I don’t know where he would have gone to counteract that,” he confessed, rubbing at his chin. “Unless he  _left_ the facility?”

“Check the exterior surveillance,” Pidge said, and the worker near her agreed, hurrying to the control room. Allura, Pidge, Hunk, and Lance were on their heels. Lance trailed further behind, his mind filtering through the time he and Keith kidnapped Pidge. Keith had returned from something, something  _outside_ the facility, and the only thing that came to mind was Shiro.

Lance stopped in the hallway, letting the team hurry on ahead to discover what he had already figured out. He checked over his shoulder, around the corner, before doubling back to the center atrium, and the exit beyond that. He triggered his visor, and stepped out into the Olkari atmosphere where he could see the hospital across the street. He vaulted off the facility platform and soared over traffic, his jetpack boosting to life. He landed on steady feet, and continued on through the hospital foyer, hailing the nearest worker. 

The worker squeaked at the sight of his paladin uniform, and answered as fast as they could manage, gesturing down the hall, to the elevator, and the number floor Shiro was kept on. Lance saluted them on his way ahead, jogging to the elevator.

He stepped inside and let the doors shut. He slapped the floor number and waited idly in the stretch of elevator music chiming overhead. He looked up at the speaker and felt the distinct urge to blast it into oblivion.

Before he could wreck hospital property, however, Lance arrived at his designated floor, and to an empty room where Shiro’s pod used to be. 

“ _Fuck_ . Keith…” Lance whined, panicked. What the hell was Keith doing? Why would he hijack Shiro’s pod?

_Maybe he is losing his mind_ , his mind supplied, thinking of Allura’s contempt over not only Keith’s state, but Lotor’s as well. Lance didn’t blame her—Lotor was a wackjob and so far off the deep end, they’d find his corpse in the Marianas Trench. It’d take more than just a usual cycle to get Keith into that mindset, and rationally, Lance knew this. He couldn’t help but  _worry_ , though. What if Keith’s impulses were manifesting? What if he couldn’t hold them back?

_Stop thinking like that_ , Lance demanded of himself, clutching at his helmet as he backed into the hallway. He headed for the elevator once more.  _Keith wouldn’t go anywhere he hadn’t gone before, right? Where else have we gone outside of the facility?_

The forest.

The forest was exactly where Keith was, dragging Shiro along behind him, clad in his Blade of Marmora suit. The air was thin on Olkarion, and he could feel it as his suit filtered oxygen into his constricted lungs. He was starting to hate the auto-adjust suit (he just couldn’t win, could he?). He felt like he was back in the desert, trapped in the morning heat the instant it woke him up from a cold night. He was back in that bed, legs and arms sticky with sweat in the dry heat, tangled in the sheets. He wanted to  _scream_ , and he did, as soon as he was in the dappled shade of the Olkarion trees.

He thrust his fists down at his sides and yelled until his voice cracked, and any nearby life scattered. The forest was empty, all except the two of them—him and Shiro. He could see Lotor’s crash site far beyond where he stood. On the horizon, where the trees broke away to blue sky, and the vacant stretch of land where Allura had repaired the damage of the scar.

Keith relaxed as best he could, panting hard, expression wild behind his mask. He clutched at the scar across his suit—a faint grey where it had reformed over the purple scar on his chest and hand. The fabric felt different there, but it was living, breathing, and recovering from the quintessence spark.

Bent over his knees, Keith closed his eyes and begged his body to obey him, just this once. He waited until he could grab hold of the pod handle without shaking, and then continued onwards, up the switchback trail to where he, Lance, and Pidge had produced gliders from the tree pods. 

He approached the edge of it, where the underbrush broke way to eroded dirt over the valley. _God_ , did he want to take off his mask. He pulled his hood up over his face and dissolved the mask. He sucked in a deep lungful of Olkarion air, and felt it burn at once. He heaved it in anyways, eyes wide and red. 

His gaze dropped to the ground.

Keith stopped short. There, amongst the underbrush, was an animal he’d never seen before. It looked like a half-formed chicken, but he wasn’t one to judge. Its wings were green and black, with eyes like a bug’s and its beak partially open. Keith knelt down beside it as its chest worked hard to breathe. One of its wings was broken beneath it and  _fuck_ , if it wasn’t the saddest goddamn thing he’d ever witnessed.

He pressed his hands to the dirt. Maybe it was his body’s inability to process Olkarion air, but he couldn’t breathe again. Tears pricked his eyes as he said, “ _Fuck_ , this is so sad. I’m so sorry, dude.”

The bird let out a low squeak as Keith reached to pick it up. He used a leaf as a mini-stretcher and scooted its body onto it as tears bubbled over his vision. His eyes stung like he’d just swam in a pool of chlorine. The entire time, he sobbed, “I’m sorry, little guy. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” 

He felt more than heard the air shift behind him. At first, he thought it was Shiro’s pod, but having heard the sound so many times, he knew the sound of Wolfie’s teleportation trick by now. He struck an arm out to stop Wolfie from coming in close, and he felt Wolfie’s heavy black-and-white mane press into his arm, nose hooked over Keith’s elbow. 

A low growl emitted from deep within Wolfie’s chest. “ _No_ , don’t come near it,” Keith warned, pushing Wolfie back. The bird let out another low whine like a broken recorder. Wolfie bared their teeth. “ _No_ ! I said  _no, Wolfie_ !” Keith snapped, snarling right back. 

Keith blocked Wolfie’s view of the bird, sharpened teeth bared, eyes flashing yellow, pupils narrowing to slits, irises vanishing into his scleras. Wolfie’s hackles raised, his growls muting as he backed away behind Shiro’s pod. The tension in Keith’s shoulders slackened, though tears still streaked his cheeks, bubbling over in earnest from where they collected on his lashes and blurred his vision. He hastily rubbed his cheeks against his shoulders and arms before bending down to fetch the bird. 

It was then that he heard someone’s voice calling for him. He looked up sharply, eyes honing in on the figure running through the trees. Uniform white and black, shoulder pads blue.  _Lance_ .

Lance was screaming Keith’s name, and he resisted the urge to break into an all-out sprint far from there. Maybe he’d head for the crash site, he didn’t know—all he knew was that Lance was the last person he wanted to see right now, and Keith was convinced that  _he_ was the last person Lance wanted to see. He huddled the mutant bird close to his chest sniffling as Lance stopped at the base of the switchback trail, waving his arms up at Keith.

Wolfie appeared at Lance’s side in a flash of blue, hackles still raised, barking up a storm. Keith shouted over the racket, “ _No!_ Don’t come up here!” 

“Why not?!” Lance shouted back.

“Because I don’t want you up here!”

“Did you kidnap Shiro?!” Lance yelled, throwing his arms down. 

“No! I took him for a walk!” 

“The hospital staff said they saw you steal him out of the building!”

“They’re  _lying!_ ”

Lance cursed under his breath, hands clasped atop his helmet. He paced away from the trail with a groan, throwing his hands down at his sides. He propped them onto his hips, spinning back around as Keith clutched the bird to his chest. “What are you—What’s in your  _hands?_ ” Lance cried, pointing accusingly at him.

“Nothing!” Keith said, and backed away from the ledge. He turned and ran, dragging Shiro’s unconscious body with him. Lance’s jaw dropped as he looked down at Wolfie, who was still recovering from their encounter with Keith. 

Lance took off at a sprint, groaning under his breath as he started. He ran up the switchback trail, but by the time he reached the top, vaulting up with the help of his jetpack, Keith had vanished amongst the trees at an unsteady jog with Shiro’s pod lit white in the shadows. Lance paused to catch his breath, hunched over his knees. Wolfie warped beside him, leaping through the ferns. 

Lance looked to Wolfie. “Go get Krolia and the others. I’ll try to stop Keith from getting any further,” he said, hoping the cosmic wolf would understand. Wolfie vanished, and Lance figured they were on their way to get help.

Lance took off in a rush, leaping through the ferns, lunging over others. He shot ahead with a burst of his jetpack, springing off of trees. He caught hold of a branch and flung himself forward, arms swinging, landing closer to where Keith was weaving through the trees with Shiro’s pod on his heels. Lance called after him, but Keith would only swear at him, out of breath without his mask on, face blotchy and red from tears.

Lance shot forward, legs kicking off of a tree trunk. He reached his arms out as Keith came closer and closer until Lance pounced onto his back so hard, he lost his breath. Keith screamed, floundering as he rolled across the ground, folded in over whatever he was holding. Lance spun through the grass, skidding onto his feet. He hurried to pull Keith up.

Keith hissed and spat at him like a goddamn cat. Lance crouched down beside him, tugging on Keith’s arm to no avail. 

“Keith, c’mon, what’s the matter?” Lance asked, clutching onto Keith’s forearm. The fabric of his suit was a dark grey, singed around the edges from the quintessence. Keith stared down at his lap where a strange audible peep sounded. 

Lance looked down at it and nearly fainted. “What the fuck is that?!”

“It’s a fucking  _bird_ , alright?! You almost killed it,” Keith said, voice wavering. He sniffed, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to almost kill your bird.”

“It’s not fine.”

“Geez, tell it like it is,” Lance laughed, grinning as Keith scowled up at him with a pout. Lance cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right, sorry. Where did you… find a bird?”

“We’re in a goddamn forest,” Keith deadpanned. 

Lance fell quiet, because clearly he wasn’t making  _anything_ better. At this rate, he’d cause another meltdown. He rubbed his hand over Keith’s arm, soothing his thumb over the torn-up fabric as Keith sniffled and watched the bird breathe harder. “Why don’t you put your mask back on?” Lance suggested.

Keith shook his head violently. “Don’t wanna.”

“Keith…”

“ _No_ . Don’t ask me again.”

“You know it’s not safe to go without your mask. Are you  _trying_ to make yourself sick?” Lance demanded, and sucked his lips in immediately. Keith’s bottom lip quivered, and Lance’s chest seized up in horror. Shit. He’d never seen Keith cry like this before, and he didn’t know what the fuck to do. He couldn’t  _force_ Keith to put his mask on like he could with the Paladin suit. 

Keith’s shoulders shook as he cried out, tears gushing from his eyes. “Th-The bird is d-d-dying,” he sobbed. “I feel so he-helpless!”

“Oh, geez, I’m sorry—”

“ _What?_ Like you can  _do anything?_ ” Keith snarled, skin darkening from bright red to purple in the blink of an eye. Lance’s chest seized up in panic, thinking that Keith was losing oxygen fast. Instead, it was just the Galra in him resurfacing. “Do you know how to splint a fucking  _bird wing_ , Lance?!”

“No! I never claimed to—”

“Then stop fucking talking to me!”

Lance felt his face swell up with heat. He knew the feeling well enough to know that he was on the borderline of waterworks, too. He sucked in a deep breath, and was grateful that in the next moment, he heard engines running nearby, cutting up the switchback trail and heading in their direction. Keith didn’t move—he was too traumatized to. 

Buggies came over the edge and cut through the underbrush towards where Shiro’s pod glowed near them. Lance kept his hand over Keith’s wrist, giving him a tight squeeze as Wolfie howled at them from afar to alert them of their presence, too nervous to step near his owner now. Keith rubbed his tears away as best he could as the doors to the buggies opened. 

Lance looked over at them all, and to Allura’s face as she opened her mouth in preparation for a scolding. She stopped short at the sight of Keith crumpled on the ground, holding a  _bird_ , face purple and tear-stained. Allura shut her mouth, shoulders slackening. She looked back at Krolia, who raised a curious eyebrow at her son.

Krolia looked at Allura’s expectant expression. “What? You think I know how to deal with this?” Krolia said, crossing her arms. 

“Uh, yeah, maybe a little?” Pidge said. Krolia shrugged, and Pidge rolled her eyes. “Do I have to do everything around here?” she groaned, marching ahead to where Keith was slumped beside Lance. 

Keith looked up at her helplessly. “The bird…”

“Keith, why the fuck do you have a bird?” Pidge sighed, hands on her hips.

Keith blinked as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “It… looked hurt.”

“Wild animals get hurt all the time,” she said. It was the wrong thing to say. 

Keith sniffled, lips quivering. “That’s so sad,” he whispered, voice broken. Lance turned his eyes up to Pidge, annoyed that she’d say such a thing in front of Keith.

Pidge put her eyes up to the sky and pleaded to some higher entity to relieve them of this disaster. She looked down at Keith and said, “You do realizing you’re PMSing, right? I mean, not that knowing is going to stop anything, but you’re acting unreasonably empathetic right now.”

“I can’t help it,” Keith whined up at her. “I made Hunk mad at Lance.”

Hunk blinked in alarm, holding a hand to his chest. “What? Dude, no, we made up.”

Keith looked blearily at Lance, who nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’re all good. Misunderstanding,” Lance said, rubbing his hand against Keith’s back. He felt Keith sway, relief sweeping through him.

Keith rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and cheeks. Pidge bent down and ruffled his hair. “Dude, get your mask back on. Your lungs are probably killing you right now.”

Once his face was clear of tears, he put the mask back on. Lance heard his breath even out several moments later before attempting to stand again. Pidge clasped her hand over Keith’s arm where the bird was. Keith addressed the silent request reluctantly, and eventually set the bird back on the ground. Pidge rewarded him with a clap on the shoulder.

Lance urged Keith along while Pidge grabbed hold of Shiro’s pod and followed after them. They passed Allura, who did everything in her power to keep her mouth shut. 

They all gathered into their designated buggies. Wolfie jumped in alongside Keith, who recovered faster than he expected. He let out a relieved breath, disoriented, and slightly confused. He felt as though he’d just woken from a long, unintentional nap on a bus and woke up where he least expected. His head started to throb from dehydration—his forehead felt like it was swelling.

He put a hand to it and laughed a little. “That was… unexpected. Sorry for dragging you guys out here,” he said, looking up to the front where Allura glanced at him through the rearview mirror before putting the buggie in drive.

“Don’t mention it,” she said. “Let’s just get back before Coran has a fit. We should be launching soon after we return.

Keith settled back into his seat, wrapping an arm around Wolfie. He looked over at Lance, who was watching him curiously. Keith imagined it was difficult to tell a thing about him when he wore his Marmora mask, but truthfully, Lance seemed content not knowing the inner workings of Keith’s mind right then. Keith blushed despite himself and cleared his throat, turning away and keeping his eyes on Wolfie instead.

Lance’s hand touched Keith’s wrist. Keith stilled, and let himself relax to the sensation of Lance rubbing his thumb against his inner wrist. 

True to Allura’s word, they arrived in time to watch the teludav ring emerge from the facility warehouse. She sent them all off to their Lions, and together the five of them pulled the teludav into space. The process required that they all pack up and prepare for the trip to Earth—Matt and Krolia came with them, and Romelle stayed behind. She saw them off in the atrium where the workers gathered to wish them good luck. She waved to Lance, who reeled her in for a hug instead. She laughed, and confessed that hugs weren’t a custom in Altea. 

She turned to Keith then with a smile, and reached out for him. “We don’t have to,” Keith reassured, but she insisted. She squeezed him around the shoulders. 

“Keep an eye on Lotor,” she said against his shoulder. He nearly forgot—Lotor was coming with them. It was a topic of debate amongst them, but ultimately, a war prisoner like Lotor required the surveillance of the Voltron Paladins and the Blade of Marmora. As such, it was Krolia’s ultimate duty to ensure Lotor’s confinement during their stay on Earth.

Keith nodded as Romelle pulled away. She did not smile, and she did not linger. She walked away shortly after addressing Keith, and watched from the sidelines with her hands clasped in front of her. Keith’s eyes lingered on her as he walked after his team to the facility hangers. As the team all waved to the crowd, Keith glanced over his shoulder at Romelle. She dissolved amongst the workers, and disappeared down a corridor away from the commotion.

Keith saw Shiro off to Hunk’s hanger. He helped cart Shiro’s pod up the Yellow Lion’s ramp, and after securing the pod, Hunk reeled Keith in for a hug. Keith laughed and insisted that they’d see each other on the other side of the wormhole, but it did little to curb Hunk’s insistence.

Together, Keith, Krolia, and Wolfie made their way to the Black Lion. The team converged outside of the facility to where the teludav was pulled out into the open. Olkari collected in the streets to watch as Voltron pulled the teludav out into space beyond Olkarion’s orbit, and beyond the sounds of the crowds cheering for them. Keith could see Lance waving dramatically like a prince to the crowds as they drifted off out of the atmosphere.

In the dark of the universe’s great expanse, Allura triggered the wormhole, and one-by-one, each of the Lions leapt through. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tho this fic helped my writer's block, it didn't cure it, so I have nothing planned after this!! I'm willing to take requests, tho :O Message/Ask me on [Tumblr](http://girlskylark.tumblr.com/) or leave a comment if ya have an idea!


	7. 2.1 || Earth Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Straightjackets, Pubescent Angst, and Cuba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brought to you by these two sicknasty hooligans XD I wrote 6k of this yesterday because of them LMAO I also updated the tags!
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> [](https://thorny-alphabet.tumblr.com/)
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> [](https://archiveofourown.org/users/burdenedwithgloriousfandoms/pseuds/burdenedwithgloriousfandoms)  
> 

** P A R T     2 **

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Transporting Lotor wasn’t ideal, but it was necessary, and for that Keith couldn’t complain—especially since they all agreed on intense security measures to keep Lotor under control. He boarded with Allura and Coran, forearms strapped to a heavy waist-belt against his lower-back. His helmet during the journey was synched to Pidge’s Lion, filtering content the Marmora would use on Galran prisoners. It constantly streamed Lotor’s vitals, and was set to trigger warnings—adrenaline spikes, heartbeat irregularities, things that would likely precede an escape attempt, or an attack on Coran or Allura. 

Coran had secured Lotor to a full-body cast strapped to the Blue Lion’s loading dock. Lance, Hunk, and Krolia were there to ensure the best cooperation of their prisoner, but Lotor seemed more bored than anything now that Allura wasn’t in view. 

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” Lotor sighed, chin tipped up. He grimaced as Coran latched the neck brace in.

“I say we get him a straightjacket once we touchdown,” Lance said, crossing his arms. He eyed Lotor suspiciously as Coran put his hands on his hips and cocked his head curiously to the side.

“Straight jacket? Not sure I follow.”

Hunk gestured vaguely with his hands, the shape of a human body. “You, like, take a full-body suit and the arms are twisted around the front so they can’t move their torso. They use it on, like, prisoners and stuff and in action movies.”

“Horror movies,” Lance added with a shudder. 

“Very dramatic, but very necessary in some instances. This is one of them,” Hunk said with a firm nod, and a nudge against Lance’s shoulder. Lance nudged him back and nodded in agreement.

Coran stroked his beard, deep in thought. He opened his mouth to either confirm or deny the request—Lance couldn’t be certain—but was interrupted by a door hissing up in Blue’s cabin. Lotor turned his head as best he could in that metal straightjacket.

“Allura—” he started, but Allura was already snapping her fingers at him and ordering Pidge to put Lotor’s suit into mute. After that, no sound escaped the helmet, though Lotor was spouting Altean Shakespeare as if it would make a difference. 

Allura walked down to them with a smile. “I think we can handle it from here. We’ll leave him on the ship until we can verify a proper containment facility for Lotor at the Garrison,” she declared, and glanced back at Hunk and Lance for backing. They both offered a thumbs up and witty grins. “Once that’s settled, Krolia, you’ll be escorting him to detainment.”

“Affirmative,” she said, and stepped back from Blue’s ramp. She glanced over the rest of them with a brief farewell before heading to meet Keith at the Black Lion’s hanger.

As rehearsed, Lotor was left on board long after landing, though it was difficult to forget about the fact that a war criminal was onboard one of the Lions. Coran reassured the team as they gathered in the open plane that the Blue Lion would be safe even with Lotor on board, and Pidge’s tablet was still processing Lotor’s vitals. If anything happened, she’d be the first to know about it.

Keith walked out of the Black Lion, wondering why he felt nothing in regards to touching his feet to Earth’s soil. He knew Lance was likely kissing the ground right about now, and sure enough, there he was on his hands and knees, helmet abandoned off to the side, peppering kisses to the desert sands. As Keith stepped closer, Pidge ran across the field leaping and kicking her feet out. She ditched her helmet in favor of rolling in the dirt, screaming, “Sweet, sweet Arizona! How I missed your shitty, arid climate!”

Keith was just about to nudge a half-comatose Lance with his toe when a pair of heavy arms dropped around his shoulders. He flinched, only to relax at the sound of Matt Holt’s laughter in his ear.

“Where’s the unconscious grandpa?” Matt asked, shaking Keith by the shoulders.

He nudged a thumb back towards Black. “Allura thought it’d be best if we left him with Black. Human medicine can only deal with so much of the shit he’s been through,” Keith explained. He figured Black would be the best doctor for the case anyhow—maybe just spending time with Black would bring Shiro back to them before long, and so Keith left the few things Shiro left behind within Black’s cabin for when the man woke.

Matt propped a hand on his hip, still half-hugging Keith as they watched streams of dust clouds kicking up behind Garrison vehicles. 

As the engines buzzed in the distance, growing closer and louder with every moment, Lance jumped to his feet and flung himself at Hunk with a giddy cry of excitement, cheeks streaked with tears. Hunk spun him around, already bawling, crying, “We did it man! We made it home!” 

They slowed to a gentle turn, Lance slumping in his arms. He pushed his eyes into the shoulder of Hunk’s uniform, squeezing him tight around the neck. Hunk sniffled and laughed, shaking his head. Pidge barreled at them with a scream, lunging up, feet first, and latching herself onto them. Lance laughed, though it was broken in his tears. Keith watched on in amazement over something so emotional that he couldn’t connect with. Earth never felt like home, not when it betrayed him so many times. 

He looked back at his mother, who was speaking in low tones to Coran. She caught his eye, and though smiling wasn’t exactly something common in their shared vocabulary, managed to do so for him. This was just another stop on their journey, and Keith accepted that.

Matt, however, had ties there, and forced Keith to join in on the group hug. Keith groaned, trying to pry himself out of it, but it was too late. He was abruptly in the middle of it, wedged between Matt, Lance, and Hunk, watching Pidge beam at him from across the circle. In the crinkled corners of her eyes, moisture glistened from joy.

The Garrison joined them amongst the joining shadows of the Lions. Keith wanted to laugh at how, as several of the troops exited their vehicles, they staggered at the sheer size of them taking up the flat, cracked land of the Arizona desert. Their vehicles could fit inside a single claw of Black’s paw. 

Keith didn’t know any of their faces until one older man came up at a slow jog, grinning ear-to-ear. Pidge and Matt were already running full-speed, crashing into their father. Sam Holt staggered, laughing, and tipping dangerously close to falling over. Matt and Pidge held him up, though, steadying themselves as their father kissed them each on the head and ruffled their hair.

He asked after Shiro, and so Pidge and Matt offered to take him there. Keith took the hint and followed after them so that the Garrison could speak with Allura, Coran, and Krolia properly about how to proceed.

Keith trailed after them to where Black lowered her defenses. Mr. Holt held onto his children’s shoulders as Black lowered her head and opened her maw to them. The jolt of the earth, and the sound of each limb moving against Earth soil, jarred them all. The Garrison’s people ceased movement and conversation to turn and stare at the action, and to watch the spec of four individuals walking up into the beast’s mouth willingly and without concern. Keith had done so too many times with Red and Black that he forgot how awe-inspiring the action was.

He stood on the fringes of their conversation, and how Shiro came to be in the healing pod. He leant against the entry ramp wall and pushed his head back against the paneling, listening to Mr. Holt’s reaction from afar. He continued to stare at the ceiling when Pidge reassured him that Shiro would wake up before long, because if anyone could heal him, Black and Allura could. 

“How do you suppose the Lions can obtain human souls?” Mr. Holt asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it much myself,” Matt confessed. “When Pidge told me, I couldn’t believe it.”

“If it’s anything like how the Castle contained Alfor’s memories…” Pidge started, only to backtrack a second later with an annoyed groan. “But then Allura would have found  _some_ way to transfer Alfor’s memories! Granted, they were corrupted, but even before then—”

“I’m not sure, Katie. Whatever the case, I think it’s smart to keep this to ourselves. We’ve brought the Garrison so much as it is—this would be tipping the scale. If humans got hold of what Allura and the Lions have done for Shiro, they’d demand to have it themselves.”

“It’s not that simple, though, and that’s the thing! We can’t just flip a switch. None of this was intentional,” Pidge insisted. “We don’t have control over stuff like this—”

“Humans wouldn’t understand. I think that’s what he’s saying,” Matt said, voice quiet. “If they don’t understand something, they panic. We’re no different, but we were exposed to shit like this first-hand—they weren’t. If they know it’s possible…”

“The Garrison will try to replicate it,” Mr. Holt explained. Keith turned his eyes back to where the Garrison trucks were. They were still talking to Allura and Coran, and Keith’s chest tightened. He couldn’t see from so far away, but he could tell that Allura wasn’t smiling. “I spoke to some of my old colleagues, about what I’ve seen. Shiro turning up all those years ago made them a little more lenient towards what I’ve been trying to tell them, and seeing glimpses of the Blue Lion, but they’ve been sheltered from all of this. Compared to the Olkari, we’re a primitive species with open minds very few and far between.”

“Have you done anything with the blueprints?”

“Iverson suggested I keep them to myself. He stole them out of where they confiscated the craft I came in on,” he explained, and the sensation in the pit of Keith’s stomach soured. 

Someone drifted off from the group of Garrison troops, heading for the Lion. Keith didn’t want anyone else inside.

He thumped his hand on the wall paneling. “Guys, we’ve got company,” he warned. If a Garrison member came inside, they’d see Shiro’s pod in an instant. They needed to keep Shiro quiet, at least until he woke. 

The Holts emerged from the control room, and started down the ramp. Keith followed after them, and the moment they touched down, Black was lifting her head, away from the troop member approaching them. A gust of hot wind came with it, and the man lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the dust.

“Is Takashi Shirogane with you?” the man asked.

Keith clamped his mouth shut. Mr. Holt, thankfully, came in clutch with a sigh. “Unfortunately, no. They left him behind, at the Coalition headquarters. We were just speaking with him over Keith’s comm unit.”

The man nodded, and made sure to eye Keith, who resisted the urge to let his anger tighten his expression. He remained stoic until the man turned away and led them along to the vehicles. Black’s protection barrier went up behind them, and Keith didn’t miss the way the man turned to look back at it. So long as the barrier was up, no human weapon could get inside.

“Only pilots can open the barriers,” Keith said, catching the man’s eye again. “Even then it’s finicky.”

The man turned away fully, eyes ahead, though irritation tightened the muscles of his padded shoulders. Keith narrowed his eyes at the guy, and glanced over at Pidge, who walked alongside her father. She eyed him warily, flickering from him, to the Garrison man, to Keith again. She lifted an eyebrow and mouthed a silent, “What the fuck was that?” 

Keith dropped back behind Matt and Mr. Holt, who shared a knowing look. Pidge slowed to a casual walk behind them, falling into step with Keith. “They think the war is bullshit.”

“How can they? We have five fucking sentient robot Lions,” Pidge hissed, fists clenched. 

Keith shook his head, looking out at the rugged, orange horizon. The first Earth sunset they’ve seen in years, and Keith couldn’t even think to focus on it. “Any war with children at the head of it isn’t real to them,” he said. “They think we’re kids. We aren’t fit to run an actual rebellion. That’s why they think it’s bullshit.”

Pidge remained quiet for a moment, festering in her anger. Eventually, she spat out, hissing between her teeth, “Because how could a bunch of  _kids_ be in the frontlines of an actual fucking war.  _Fuck_ , you’re right.”

She cursed again, kicking her foot against the sand. Keith thought to Romelle and her warning, and it caused him to falter, looking to the Blue Lion where Lotor was kept. It stalled him long enough to avoid a proper meeting with the Garrison troop. He continued to stare at the Blue Lion’s jaws until his name was called, and he looked to find Lance waving him over. He ignored the fluster of feelings that came with it, ones he wasn’t used to acknowledging until now.

“We’re getting Lotor a straightjacket,” Lance announced, arms up and smile wide. Behind him, Allura had a hand over her face.

“I’d really like to know what this ‘straight jacket’ is,” Coran confessed, combing his fingers through his beard. 

One of the officers tossed her head back and laughed. She thumped one of her guys on the arm and said, “You’ll find out soon enough. We’ll send you all back to the Garrison and take care of the prisoner for you. Grab that straightjacket and everything.”

Allura laughed as though the officer had just told a funny joke. When the officer merely raised an eyebrow, Allura cleared her throat. “Oh, no, your people are not qualified to handle him,” she said, shaking her head. “You aren’t even qualified to get into the Lion without us.”

Keith could already see the troop members raising their eyes in a ‘The Audacity’ manner. The officer remained calm, however, as Hunk gave Allura a nervous nudge in the back. Allura glanced back at him. He shook his head. 

She looked to the sand, thinking, and lifted her chin up to the sky with a sigh. “Alright,” she decided, meeting the officer’s eyes. “We will return to your base, and I will accompany the team detaining Lotor.”

“With the straight jacket,” Coran butted in, arms crossed. 

And, so, that was how the team wound up at the Garrison docking stations awaiting the return of Allura and Lotor. Keith seemed to be the only calm one, but perhaps it was his sudden disinterest in mankind as a whole. Was it his cycle telling him he hated people? Or was it his genuine apathy towards mankind’s survival? He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that they were surrounded by ignorant idiots. 

Lance was running around talking to everyone who would listen, and just about all of them would. He was already showing off his bayard like he did to every keen alien they came across, and the instant it flared to life in his hands in a blast of blue light, the group around him was gasping and clapping their hands, or demanding to know,  _How did you do that?!_

Keith crossed his arms with a scowl, clutching his fingers to the scarred fabric on his wrist. It took him minutes to look beyond the heated sensation gathering there, and looked to find blood on his clawed fingers where they pierced through the suit. He looked down at it, unable to process the red, before at last being drawn away from it to the whirr of the detainment vehicle backing into the dock.

He stuck to the outskirts as those within the warehouse turned to watch as the back door of the truck was pushed open. The officer stepped out, and the first thing Keith noticed was her black eye. She racked her eyes over them all before stepping out with one of the troops beside her. And, behind them, Allura marched out, dragging Lotor behind her by the buckles of a—

Straightjacket.

“Jesus fuck,” Keith sighed, rubbing a hand over his brow. Lotor followed after her like a sick puppy, and it made Keith sick just watching it. 

_Keep an eye on Lotor_ .

Lotor noticed the rest of the people then, caught amongst the stares of nearly two dozen Garrison members, and the rest of the Voltron team. Lance was snickering to himself, tossing his rifle back over his shoulder as Lotor stepped down from the truck and let Allura tug him along. 

Lance pointed to his eye mockingly, pouting at the officer. “Bit of a scuffle, huh?” he cooed, and the officer could have spat at him. Keith could hardly believe Lance was still standing—as if Lance would have ever done that to a Garrison officer before Voltron happened.

Allura yanked on Lotor’s makeshift chains, and thrust him forward ahead of him. Lance stuck his tongue out at Lotor until Hunk slapped him in the gut to make him cut it out. Pidge crossed her arms with a haughty smirk.

“So. This is where your kind originated,” Lotor said through a sneer, faced only against humans now that Allura was behind him. She couldn’t cloud his mind now. “Is it all this dry?”

Pidge stepped up, slowly, each boot falling with an audible echo. “71 percent of our planet is water, asshat,” Pidge said.

He tugged his shoulders forward, as if to grab her with his tied arms. He gritted his teeth and glowered down at the straps. “Is this  _really_ necessary?” he seethed, twisting back to Allura. He stopped short at her bored expression that she rolled his way. 

He took a daring step towards her, and the instant he did, the officer and the team who witnessed whatever outbreak they had at the Lions, had their guns on him. Allura hardly budged. 

Lotor swallowed hard, nearly-human eyes wide. “I would never hurt you intentionally. That stroke of madness is not reflective of who I am—”

Pidge scoffed, hands on her hips. She leaned forward to mock, “ThAt StRoKe Of MaDnEsS iS nOt ReFlEcTiVe Of WhO i Am.”

Matt snorted from somewhere among the crowd, clapping his hands together with a hoot. Lotor stared at her in astonishment, before he was interrupted by Coran waving down the guns. 

“What the quiznack was that?” Coran asked, marching over with a flare of his hand, waving at Pidge as she straightened up. 

She crossed her arms, nose high, and smile haughty. “A meme.”

“What is that? What’s a ‘meme’?” Lotor asked. “Some human ritual?”

Lance scoffed and nudged Hunk. “Human  _ritual_ . I’ll show you a ritual—put on some  _Baker Street_ , wine, and couple rose petals—”

“Inappropriate, Lance,” Keith hissed from across the room. Immediately Lance stopped, flushing bright red at the sound of Keith’s scolding. He sucked in his lips and turned away with a guilty look on his face. 

“It’s a universal culture—Wait, no, that’s inaccurate now. It’s a cultural aspect that’s shared  _world-wide_ ,” Pidge explained.  She pegged Coran with a pair of finger-guns. “I’ll show you sometime.”

“I’ve never even heard of that meme,” Lance said indignantly.

“My brain synched all of Tumblr’s memes from the moment we left to the moment we arrived the instant we entered the atmosphere. It’s a relatively new meme,” Pidge explained as Matt waltzed over and tossed an arm around her shoulders. “How’s it feel to be uncultured, swine?”

Lance stomped his foot, prepared to fight over it, but they were wasting time.

Allura got them back in motion after a harsh look from the officer with the shiner. Keith stayed put and ignored the racket that followed Allura and Lotor out of the warehouse. He stayed put long after the warehouse cleared out, and it was just him and another Garrison officer. The man stood back against a stationary fighter plane, stance straight, and one harsh eye honed in on Keith’s apathetic expression. His claws dug deeper, irises fading out into yellow.

Keith stared at him as the echoes of the Garrison faded out behind the clash of a closing door. “What do you want.”

Iverson dislodged from his post. He took a step closer over the concrete, hands clasped behind him. Keith studied the scar marring Iverson’s eye, knowing full well where it came from. He caused it. He knew he’d have to face the consequences for that fact, but he figured being thrust into a war was punishment enough. Now, it seemed even the war brought him here to face proper judgement.

Iverson slowed as he approached Keith, eye unwavering. “Senior officer Shirogane,” he said, tipping his head so his shadow fell over Keith’s purpling skin. “Is he alive?”

Keith swallowed hard, raising his chin. “Yes. Sir.”

Iverson grinned a little, and it was a decidedly hostile. “Seems you found him after all. After us, of course.”

Keith had so many things he wanted to say. They would have cut off Shiro’s arm. They would have brainwashed him beyond what the Galra had already done. But perhaps that would have been better. Haggar’s virus could have been cut off at the root long before anything became of it. 

“That wasn’t the real Shiro,” Keith bit out through clenched teeth, sneering. “It was never him.”

“Oh, wasn’t it?” Iverson said, leaning back. 

When Keith snarled, it felt and sounded and looked as animalistic as it was. His sharpened canines weren’t the only thing sharpened from beyond Earth’s atmosphere. Iverson didn’t flinch, not like Keith did. He spent plenty of time trapped in that room Allura punished him with. The Shiro that came to Earth was the same one Allura brought back to them from the Black Lion. He was as real as Takashi Shirogane was going to get.

The arm was what corrupted him. Not the soul Black harvested. 

Was it possible to duplicate a soul?

“I don’t know,” he confessed, teeth clenched.

“Montgomery tells me he isn’t with you. On another… planet,” Iverson said, jaw ticking. “For the sake of both our sanities, let’s just hope there  _is_ a real Takashi.”

With that, Iverson eyed Keith in warning, and stepped away. As he turned, Keith watched his fingers tighten around the edge of his waist belt, over the holster of a pistol laid diagonally across the leather. Keith drew his eyes up to where Iverson looked back at him.

“I shouldn’t have been surprised. It was difficult believing Samuel, but by God, you and this shitshow really is the cherry on top,” he said. Keith pursed his lips, glowering at the ground until Iverson’s footsteps faded away. Even then, he couldn’t stop his clawed hands from shaking, or the purple from creeping up where it scarred the skin of his wrist beneath the suit.

 

* * *

 

Krolia straightened from where she’d tugged Keith’s chin down, to the side, and back again. Keith went back to flattening his hands over his sharpened ears. The cartilage felt  _harder_ , denser at the peaked corners. He was too anxious to fold the cartilage over like he used to, when he was nervous, or tug on the loose flesh beneath his lobe.

“Normal,” she reassured him. “For young pups.”

“I’m not a dog.”

Krolia reached down to where Wolfie panted up at them. “Unfortunate terminological crossover.”

Keith clenched his teeth, baring them as he all but spat, “I’m not even that  _young_ . I’m an  _adult_ .”

“Of course,” she said, and it caused Keith to throw his arms down.

He paced away from his mother, only to look back at where she stood at the framework of Lotor’s cell. Keith glanced at the narrow, slitted windows where he could see Lotor standing, watching him from across the room where the straightjacket was chained. It was different on Olkari—he didn’t have to see Lotor—and it was different in the Castle, when they first held Lotor prisoner. Earth was far too personal, and far too traumatic to fully process. 

Truthfully, he didn’t want to go back to Earth, but there they were, surrounded by prisoner cells he was used to. The act of stuffing Lotor into one of them made him feel a bit better, though. This was how justice was supposed to be served, though the anxiety and rancor roiling inside of him demanded a swift, punishing death. 

They’d get there. Eventually.

“Look at me,” Krolia demanded. Keith had been staring into Lotor’s eyes for who knew how long. He was staring to sweat. He could feel it glistening on his forehead, so he wiped it away. Wolfie leant into his side. “You need to relax.”

Keith shook his head frantically, all but panting. “No. I don’t want to go in a room alone again. I can’t do it.”

“Go with one of your friends. The Holts are going to visit their mother at the psych ward. Lance and Hunk are about to leave for Cuba with Coran and Allura. I’ll watch over Wolfgang.”

Keith yearned for that. He wanted to spend time with them, with Lance. Still, he shook his head. His mother asked why. “Because. Because they’re going to visit their family. I’ll just get in the way.”

“Why do you think they’re bringing Coran and Allura then,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. Keith stared at her, still worrying over the idea of it. “They’ll be in the way just as much as you will. They practically invited themselves on the trip. Do the same, don’t be embarrassed.”

“Who are you to tell me whether or not I’ll be embarrassed? Do you even feel embarrassment?”

“No, but that isn’t the point,” she said, and Keith turned away with a groan. “ _Go with them_ .”

This was precisely how Keith found himself approaching Lance where he stood outside of Red, saying farewell. He looked back at the collection of Garrison cadets out on the rooftops, watching, waiting, and hoping for the Lions to take off for Hunk and Lance’s hometown. They couldn’t fly the Lions in Earth’s airspace, let alone through entire countries. Keith was sure Lance would have waved to all the cadets if the Lions weren’t so far from the Garrison. In fact, they stood as mere silhouettes on the horizon, shrouded in dusk.

As Keith walked up, purple and all, Lance hurried to him, only to hesitate a few paces away, hands clutched over his stomach. 

“Hey. Are you… doing okay?” he asked, and all Keith could do was sigh and shrug noncommittally. “You can tell me if you aren’t. I mean, I’m leaving soon but—”

“I…” Keith started, and Lance immediately shut up to listen. In fact, he leaned in to hear Keith’s quiet voice better. “IwaswonderingifIcouldcomewithyouguys.”

“You—You want to come with us?” Lance squeaked, and just as Keith was preparing to take it back, Lance was smiling all over again. “Dude! Yeah, yeah, you can come with!”

“I’m worried about leaving Shiro unsupervised. We could sneak his pod onto the Garrison craft,” Keith said, nodding over to where Black sat half a mile off. “But are you sure I won’t be getting in the way of things? My mom just thinks I need to relax a little. I can’t get… all this shit to go away.”

“Dude, yeah, the ears are new. I like ‘em,” Lance said, and Keith flushed all shades of violet. Lance cooed eagerly, reaching up to poke his cheek. Keith slapped him away as Hunk called out to them from down the line. Keith could barely catch what he said, but Lance gathered.

Lance screamed back that Keith was coming with them, and Hunk immediately said, “ _WHAT?!_ ”

Lance sucked in a deep breath, and bellowed out, hands cupped over his mouth, “ _I SAID—KEITH IS COMING WITH US!_ ”

Hunk’s bellowing laughter proceeded, and Keith slapped a hand over his forehead. “ _NO SHIT?! DUDE LET’S GO!_ ”

And that… was how Keith found himself arguing with the pilot of their craft. He and Lance had walked up to the cockpit, ducked inside, and he’d already been done with the day as it was. The pilot startled at the sight of Keith’s appearance, and stared helplessly at Lance as he insisted they couldn’t fly the plane.

“We fucking went to school here—Lance and I are both fighter pilots, we can manage a fucking trip to Cuba,” Keith seethed (more like snarled, his voice was getting a bit gravely over it). Lance just stood back, eyes wide as Keith bitched out the pilot.

“Yes…” the pilot started, quietly, “but neither of you are licensed—”

“Yeah, and I’m not exactly licensed to pilot a fucking sentient robot Lion, but do you see me complaining about it?” Keith said. 

“Fighter pilots aren’t qualified to pilot commercial planes—you don’t know the protocol for landing in Cuba—”

“ _Creo que nos podemos ocupar nosotros_ ,” Lance said, and just about every molecule in Keith’s body erupted like fireworks. He floundered for air as he turned to stare at Lance, who didn’t blink twice at the shock on the pilot’s face, or on Keith’s, either. Lance glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and stepped towards the copilot seat. He spun it around and collapsed confidently in it with a grin. “ _I was tested before leaving for the Garrison. Not licensed, but I know_ roughly _what to do when we get there_ .”

The pilot was pale by the time Lance finished, standing between Keith and the pilot’s chair. Keith lifted an eyebrow at him, and watched as the pilot retreated from the aircraft. They watched him go before jumping into motion.

“Are all humans this… this  _uptight_ ?” Allura asked.

“Are all aliens this unorganized?” Keith countered, his anger churning past the boiling point. Lance snuck after him with an apologetic smile. Keith walked off to fetch Shiro’s pod as Lance explained to Allura.

“Every pilot on Earth has to have a certified license, and it’s different depending on what aircrafts you’re piloting. We were trained for the military, and so we can’t fly commercial planes that take humans from point A to point B.”

“Planes? So you’ve colonized other planets?” Allura asked, and was swiftly cut down by Hunk laughing.

“No! Oh, no, no way. The governments squabble too much to fund space travel.”

“Fund? As in returning a favor?”

“Building spacecrafts requires monetary compensation,” Hunk explained, leaning over in his seat. Coran was listening intently from the row behind him. “And whoever gets there first has to claim the land for their country because we can’t all live in peace. Dividing up the land of another planet would be beyond complicated.”

“What do you mean?” Allura asked, sitting down and perching her hands on her knees, staring intently at Hunk. “Don’t all humans live together on this planet? How many of you are there, if you aren’t divided amongst planetary colonies?”

Hunk sighed, muttering, “Aye caramba…” under his breath. He steeled himself and promised to explain it all on the trip to Cuba, because he couldn’t possibly summarize the Earth’s issues in one sitting.

When Keith returned angrier and more flustered than before, he shoved the pod into the handicapped spot and strapped the buckle around the casing. He looped it through the handle and tied it as the rest of the team watched on, alarmed by his aggression. He didn’t look at any of them as he stormed past the curtain into the cockpit, dropped into the pilot’s seat, and readied for takeoff. 

Lance hurried to the curtain, only to turn back and insist that Allura and Coran buckle up for the trip. As Lance disappeared behind the curtain, Allura turned to Hunk with a quizzical, “Buckle up?” and so Hunk went around and helped them fasten their seatbelts. As the plane started up, Allura clutched at the armrests, and stared at Coran as she said, “This  _is_ a bit primeval, wouldn’t you say?”

“It’s interesting,” Coran confessed with a nervous grin, clutching at his chest and looking to the ceiling as if to pray. “Oh stars—or what would you say, Hunk? Oh god?”

“‘Oh God’ just about does it,” Hunk sighed with a roll of his eyes towards the window. Now he remembered why he used to get nauseous during flights—piloting the Lions was a ride through paradise compared to this.

Through the flight to Cuba, Keith irritably listened to flight instructions from the Garrison base. It twisted and stretched his anger thin, and he could feel it on his skin like a second, purple sleeve. Lance responded to commands, and as they flew into Cuban airspace, the language flipped. The Garrison didn’t have a base on Cuba—hence Lance’s move to the United States—so it was just them in foreign territory as if nothing had changed. They were used to this.

The instant the plane wheels touched the runway, Keith snickered as he heard Allura and Coran scream in the back, followed by Hunk reassuring them that everything was fine. Minutes after completing the landing, Allura and Coran still clung to their seatbelts and the ceiling, and every surface that would sustain them. Eventually, Lance and Hunk had to manually unbuckle their seats and all but drag them out of the plane after Shiro’s pod. Keith stood out in the airfield as a worker ran up from the tower in alarm, sputtering Spanish that Keith barely understood. He really  _did_ take two years of Spanish for nothing.

Lance shrieked as he came out to find Keith, unfazed, being bitched out by the airfield worker. He hurried up, stammering excuses, insisting that everything was fine, and that they were with the Garrison. The man pointed frantically to the plane, and then hesitated at the sight of Allura and Coran standing there astride Shiro’s glowing pod.

The man halted, blinking wide. Everyone was silent right up until the moment when Shiro’s pod hissed open.

The man screamed, and ran away the instant Shiro sat up in the pod. Lance watched the worker run off while Keith hurried to the pod where Shiro groaned like a zombie, stretching his arm high and wide. He dropped his hand onto his head, squinting at the sun, inhaling deep lungfuls of heavy, humid air. Keith reached for his hand, urging him to the edge of the pod.

“How are you feeling?” Allura asked, coming to stand alongside Keith.

Keith stared up at Shiro’s face as the man shifted to sit on the edge of the pod. Shiro ruffled a hand through his white hair and flattened it down like he used to when he was stressed, or angry, or experiencing… _any_ sort of negative emotion, really. The action brought a faint smile to Keith’s face, no matter how strained it was, or how negative he felt at that moment.

Shiro’s brow furrowed, glancing to the ground, eyes adjusting to the nightfall. It’d be dawn soon, Keith was sure of it, and the impending sunlight cast a bluish hue over the humid land. Shiro’s eyes fell to Keith’s clawed hand over his, and then up past the Marmora suit to Keith’s tight smile.

“Hey,” Keith said. “Allura asked how you’re feeling?”

Shiro stared at him, mouth slightly ajar. He shut it and tried again. “He… sounds like Keith but he doesn’t  _look_ like Keith. That you, buddy?” he said, voice hoarse. Keith laughed.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. Long story,” Keith confessed, and softened as he watched Shiro reach his hand out to Keith’s face. Keith closed his eyes as Shiro’s fingers touched the scar. His skin tingled at the sensation of Shiro’s fingers dipping into the ridges of the burn, down to his jawline. “Long story,” he sighed, opening his eyes again. “We’re in Cuba. We’re meeting the McClains and the Garrets.”

Shiro blinked, startled, and looking around in search of those two familiar faces. Lance and Hunk were standing side-by-side, and Hunk waved his tablet with a smile. “I just messaged my mom. The family’s coming to pick us up. We should make it home by sunrise if all works out.”

The airfield was illuminated in football-stadium-esque light fixtures, scattered with bugs flitting in front of the bulbs. The group of them all sat out on the grass astride the runway as Shiro tested his legs, and walked with his arm tight around Keith’s shoulders. Hunk was explaining World War II to a very confused Allura and Coran whilst all this was happening, and Keith and Shiro would overhear things like, “So… what you’re saying is that your species has already defeated a human-version of Zarkon? I always knew you five were qualified for the position.”

“ _We_ didn’t defeat him. He—ugh, he committed suicide.”

“Ah, yes, but Zarkon destroyed himself as well.”

Lance put his head in his hands. Hunk shook his head, stunned. “Amazing,” he said. “Truly. You want to know about Greek Mythology? I think you might really enjoy it.”

“What are ‘Greeks’? Is that a branch off of the human species?” Allura asked. Lance tipped onto his side, groaning more.

When the time came to depart, Hunk walked them to the airfield parking lot. Over the stretch of grass splitting between the cracks of concrete, they saw two vans open up on all sides to reveal a horde of people. Keith didn’t recognize them, but they seemed to recognize Hunk and Lance even after all these years.

Keith hefted Shiro’s bag over his shoulder, tightening the strap as they watched from afar as the McClains and the Garrets tackled their sons with love and affection. Allura stood closer, smiling elegantly as their parents shook her hand and hugged her and Coran. 

Shiro nudged his side. Keith looked down at Shiro’s arm, and up to his face. “Go say hi,” he said.

“I didn’t come here for family bonding time,” he replied, arms crossing. He scowled away from Shiro as he added, “Mom just suggested I should… calm down a little. Maybe spend some time on the beach.”

“Well, we’ll be staying with one of them. It wouldn’t hurt to get to know them a little,” Shiro suggested, and when Keith said nothing, started off ahead. He just  _knew_ Keith would follow suit, and that was exactly what he did—grudgingly, however. 

Keith didn’t know what to make of the commotion, but he was certain their families weren’t entirely sure either. There wasn’t much they could say at that moment in the parking lot, so they made do with the trip from the airfield to their homes. Hunk and Lance knew one another from primary school, and their homes were relatively close in distance, so Hunk offered to host Allura and Coran while Lance took care of Shiro and Keith. Keith watched their car head out first, disappearing amongst the foliage before turning back to where Lance’s sister had her arms around Lance’s shoulders.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” his mother said, rubbing the back of her hand over her eyes before setting the car in drive. The passenger’s seat was occupied by Lance’s brother, and that seemed to be the entire family. It left room for Keith and Shiro in the back seat, and Keith was too exhausted to process the drive, let alone talk to the McClains. Thankfully, Lance had enough energy for the lot of them, and prattled on and on like storytelling was his God-given gift. Keith wasn’t at all surprised.

Keith tipped his head onto Shiro’s shoulder, and fell into a light sleep that jostled him away with every bump in the rocky roads. As the drive carried on accompanied by Lance’s eager voice, sunlight began to stream through the trees, and color the interior of the car yellow and pink. Keith studied the plots of sunlight on the roof, and the white of Shiro’s pod uniform. Keith clutched Shiro’s duffle closer, hugging it to his chest as he tugged his knees up onto the seat. 

What seemed like a minute later, someone was nudging his knee. He peeked open one eye to find Lance’s sister twisted around in her seat, poking him awake. “We’re here,” she said. “You can sleep in my room if ya want. I’m sleeping in Julian’s room tonight.”

“Oh, no, I don’t need a bed,” Keith said, jaws parting into a yawn. As he shut his mouth, eyes bleary, he caught Lance’s sister staring at his closed mouth. “What?”

“Your  _teeth—_ ” she started, but someone reached in and grabbed her by the back of her shirt. She squeaked and tumbled out of the car.

Lance poked in then, chastising her, “ _Rosa_ , don’t be rude!”

“He’s like the Big Bad Wolf!” she cried, arms in the air. Shiro laughed from beside Keith, who furrowed his brow and grumbled under his breath. He slapped Lance’s hand away as he attempted to help Keith down. 

Lance took Shiro by the hand and helped ease him to the ground. Shiro let out a heavy sigh and suggested, “Why don’t… we go to the beach.”

Keith could already see it, and hearing the words from Shiro sent a thrill through him. It vanquished some of the sleep from his eyes, but did little to quell the turmoil inside. Perhaps a dip in the water would help? Lying in the sand? Feeling the breeze through his hair, and the salty water on his skin… It’d do wonders before long.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell and listened to the sound of the ocean waves crashing into shore beyond Lance’s house. The house was a ranch-style, long and accompanied by a luscious garden and a stone path that Rosa led the way down. Keith followed after her, eager to get to the waves. 

Lance chased after them, stopping Keith at the porch. Keith tugged on his hand, but Lance wouldn’t let him go. He could see the water between the arcing trees, and the droopy branches with fluffy leaves—

“Dude, you need a swimsuit and a towel. You can’t go out in your Marmora suit,” he insisted.

Keith scowled at him, and at last freed his hand as Shiro made his way around the corner with Miss McClain beside him. She overheard the comment. “I can wash that for you! All of you—come on, who knows when you last washed your clothes.”

“Mama…” Lance groaned, shoulders slumping. His mother merely yanked on the collar of his suit, and sent Lance shrieking and insisting that he’d take it off, he promised! 

Satisfied, his mother went off to fetch proper swimsuits for them. Rosa disappeared inside after her, winking in Keith’s direction before vanishing around the corner. Lance groaned and rolled his eyes. His cheeks were pink, and darkened further when he saw Shiro raising an eyebrow. 

“I don’t even know if the under suits are machine washable,” Lance confessed with a shrug.

“Guess we’ll find out,” Keith said.

He reached back and pressed a finger to the button at the hem of his collar. The suit deflated, and he was then able to step out of it with nothing but his underwear on. He was sure he could just swim in this, but Lance’s mother was racing back out, thrusting trunks at him, and giving him directions to the restroom.

Keith wandered through the stout home adorned with photographs and dried plant leaves. It smelled like… it smelled like a grandmother’s home, not that he minded. Like lavender lotion and coconut oils. He breathed it in, trailing his eyes over the wood paneling on the walls, and passing a spare room to the side. He turned away from the blue walls and white sheets to the restroom attached to it. 

Closing the door meant shutting out the sounds of the ocean. He did so regrettably, and dressed as quickly as he could. He tossed the towel Miss McClain gave him over his shoulder and stepped out, suit draped over one arm. Just as he did, Rosa sprinted past the open bedroom door and lunged out onto the deck with a holler. Keith emerged into the living room just in time to watch her tackle Lance from beyond the glass door. Lance screamed and twisted around, swinging her with him. She giggled into his shoulder and clasped on tighter so he had to drag her into the house with him.

“Hey! You can head down to the beach. I think Shiro’s done changing, too,” Lance said, grinning ear-to-ear. 

Keith said nothing and merely walked out onto the deck as Miss McClain passed him, snatching his suit from his arms. He let his clawed fingers clench over his stomach as he started towards the water, only to look back at the house. The patio door was open, and Lance was there, talking to his mother and sister with a wavering smile on his face. His mother reached forward and encased him in a hug, and Rosa beamed from beside them, her fluffy black hair disguising the tears pricking in her eyes.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice sounded from the sand. Keith hesitated before turning around and heading after it, feeling the sand between his toes. 

Shiro stood out on the fringes of the water, skin pale as could be, and hair even paler. His grey eyes looked nearly black against it all as he reached a hand out to Keith. Keith took it and let Shiro lower him down into the sand. Shiro took Keith’s towel and folded it haphazardly into a bundle that Keith used as a pillow in the sand. 

They laid together on the decline dipping towards the water. The dusty white sand slid through Keith’s fingers as he dug them in, reshaping the earth as he knew it. Shiro sighed, eyes closed, face to the sky. 

Several minutes later, when Keith was so sure he’d been passed out for hours, a heavy shadow fell over them. Lance muttered something under his breath, and Keith spared a glance back at where Lance was wedging an umbrella into the sand between him and Shiro. Rosa was there with a bowl of fruit, setting it down beside Keith.

“Here—Lance said you guys haven’t had Earth food in a while, so I figured you might appreciate this,” she said, beaming at Keith before heading to the water. She ditched her cloth skirt and left it behind with Lance before diving in. 

Keith plucked up a grape and studied it. He handed it to Shiro, who popped it in his mouth without a second thought. “This… is the dream.”

“Literally,” Lance agreed from overhead. “I’ve been dreaming about the beach for God knows  _how long_ . Rosa already called me pasty.”

“Perks of being across the universe,” Keith said.

Lance shook out a bottle of sunscreen and lathered some on, smearing white all over his nose and forehead and ears. After he rubbed it in, he bent down to slap some on Keith’s exposed legs that practically glowed in the morning sunlight. 

Lance lathered it in, and it sent sparks of  _something_ through Keith’s entire being. He felt it like pop rocks in his veins, shriveling up all the words in his mouth until all that came out was a strangled, unintelligible sound that rumbled in the base of his throat and in his chest. It popped like a bubble and he couldn’t stop until he finally kicked Lance away, who was giggling up a storm. 

Keith bolted up into a sitting position, staring in horror at Lance, and then clutching his legs to his chest. Lance fell back on the sand, cackling.

“Oh my God—Dude, did you  _mean_ to purr?” he cried, and Keith turned purple all over—literally. It flushed down his chest and across his legs. “Aw!”

“Fuck off,” Keith snarled. “Don’t touch me.”

“Aw, but you were purring! That’s so cute,” Lance insisted, about to crawl back up, but Keith snarled at him in a string of curses and feeble leg-kicks. 

Shiro pushed up onto his elbow to watch the scene before saying, “Aren’t we supposed to be letting Keith relax? And also me?”

Lance stopped, straightened, and cleared his throat. “Right, sorry. Won’t happen again.” 

It did, though, because then both his and Shiro’s faces were in the sun again, and Lance insisted on helping Keith apply sunscreen. Keith batted the sunscreen into the sand at the next given opportunity, and Lance whined about it as Keith fell back against his towel with a triumphant sigh. As if he’d let Lance give him a  _back massage_ under the pretense of “applying sunscreen”. He’d lose his mind and make a fool of himself in the process.

Shiro, however, took up the offer. Lance had him roll onto his back, and proceeded to lather sunscreen across Shiro’s shoulders and torso. Shiro sighed into his towel as Lance slicked his hands up Shiro’s neck and tickled his ears. “You’re a natural at this, Lance,” Shiro said in a blissed drone. 

Lance laughed, “Nah, just practiced. I used to do this for Ma.”

Keith scowled at him. An instant later, Lance looked up at him from where he pulled Shiro’s arm up from the sand and worked the muscles all the way down to his wrist and fingers. Keith flushed dark violet and looked away, souring in his own contempt for his body’s inability cooperate.

After that was said and done, Lance went off into the water with Rosa, and they were accompanied later by Allura, Coran, and the Garrets down the beach. Allura ran up, waving eagerly, looking especially perky in her one-piece, watermelon-printed suit and frilly transparent skirt. Keith shut his eyes and begged Lance not to wolf-whistle, but he did, and received a smack on the back of his head from Rosa.

Allura dropped down directly between Keith and Shiro and picked up Lance’s sunscreen bottle. She opened the cap and sniffed it with a delighted, “Oh! Miss Garret offered me some. It doesn’t taste very good.”

“It’s lotion,” Shiro said, sitting up straighter. “You put it on your skin. Protects you from the sun’s radiation.”

“Does it really? Well, we should have this at the new castle. I love the smell of it,” she said, breathing in another lungful of it. Keith reached for it blindly and snatched it out of her hands.

“You’ll get high off of that,” he chastised.

“High? What do you mean?” she asked, and Shiro laughed and told her not to worry about it.

Allura talked all about the Garrets “dog”, which reminded her of Wolfie. “Far more tame, but less exciting. Very predictable—their dog doesn’t jump through localized wormholes,” she explained to Keith, as if he cared. He could practically feel the purple prickling down his toes.

“We’re supposed to be letting Keith relax,” Shiro told her. “Why don’t you go check out the ocean?”

“I heard it hurts your eyes, though,” she said.

“It’s just the sodium content. You’ll be fine,” Keith drawled, forearm drawn over his eyes. Allura got up shortly after and hurried over to where Coran called her name, a beach volleyball in his hands. The instant she was gone, Keith said, “ _You_ just want to relax.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Shiro confessed.

“You were unconscious for—”

“Longer than you think,” he sighed. “I know, but I could go for a calm day, couldn’t you?”

Keith agreed, and together, they attempted to make the most of it. 


	8. 2.2 ||  A Variety Of Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's insecurities strike once again, but Lance is there to reassure him that the impulses aren't as bad as he thinks ;)
> 
> Krolia and Lotor face problems with Montgomery and Iverson, and it comes in the shape of scalpels and anesthesia o.o (watch out for gore)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  YOU REALLY GOT ME GOIN WITH THIS ONE!! WOOEEE THANKS PAL!!

A relaxing day on the beach was precisely what Keith and Shiro’s psyche required. He was content there beneath Lance’s umbrella, legs crossed, a watermelon wedge in his hands. He held it up to his lips with both hands on the crust, eyes squinting against the glare of sunlight on the teal water. The watermelon was juicy and cool on his tongue, rich in sugar and spotted with black seeds. He spat them cleanly out into the sand before going back to watching Rosa as she taught Allura how to swim with the waves. They were pinwheeling their arms in practiced motions, and Allura was explaining why she never learned to swim.

“Altea wasn’t like your Earth. We had lakes and rivers, but our oceans were approximately the size of… what would you call it?”

“Lake Michigan?” she offered.

“Yes, precisely,” Allura said, dipping low into the water so all but her head and neck were submerged. “We pumped water from the earth. We had massive underground reservoirs, and after expansion into space, most of our water was chemically engineered.”

Keith rubbed watermelon juice off of his chin and took in a deep breath. The humidity was crushing his lungs slowly but surely. After he finished the melon, he turned to Shiro, who had his eyes closed and head reclined back against a bunch of towels. “I’m gonna go for a dip,” Keith said. 

Shiro raised an eyebrow, but didn’t so much as raise an eyelid. “Alright. Splash some water on me when you get back.”

Keith laughed, rolling to his feet. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that.”

He started towards the water, and the moment he emerged from the shade, he was already baking. His claws had receded long ago, but he could still feel his fingernails aching, red from the irritation. He dunked them in the lukewarm water with a sigh, and walked against the waves until his waist was submerged. 

Slowly, he crouched down, and sat there with the waves rocking him up and down until the heat in his body ebbed away. The motion of the current lulled him into quiet bliss. No one seemed to notice he even set foot in the water until long after he was pruny, and Lance thought to look at the umbrella where Shiro laid next to an empty towel.

Lance straightened up, glancing down the beach and then back to where Hunk paused to watch Lance’s brow crease in worry. 

“Where’s Keith?” he said, and those two words had Hunk panicking in a matter of seconds.

Hunk looked to Keith’s empty towel, sloshing up onto shore. He turned to Lance and asked, “Does Keith even know how to swim?”

Lance shrugged helplessly. “I mean, he kinda looks like the type of guy who doesn’t know how to swim,” he confessed. It was the wrong thing to say.

Hunk’s mother sheltered her eyes with a flat hand, squinting out at where Hunk cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted Keith’s name. At that exact moment, Keith ducked under an incoming wave and missed the call just a short walk down the beach. The current was pulling him further down, though, away from where Allura and Rosa stopped treading water to help Hunk and Lance search for Keith.

“I’m sure he’s fine!” Miss Garrett said, waving her hand dismissively. Beside her, Coran tipped his straw hat out of his eyes to see what all the ruckus was about. Miss Garrett crossed her ankles and leant back on her hand. “He’s a grown man—he knows how to swim.”

“You’ve never met him before!” Hunk cried. “He lived in a desert for most of his life!”

She sent him an annoyed look and said, exasperatedly, “Kitty pools exist.”

Keith resurfaced to the sound of Lance and Allura shouting in unison, “ _KEEEITH!_ ” He stood up from where he’d been sitting among wave-rippled sand dunes. 

He emerged and held his hands out in a “What the fuck?” sort of gesture. Allura caught sight of him first, gasping and pointing. Lance spun around, and took off at a sprint—well, as fast as he could in the water, that is. He kicked his knees up high to avoid the waves and came crashing into Keith.

“Do you even  _swim?!_ ” Lance cried, pulling back and giving Keith a shake by the shoulders.

Keith rose an eyebrow at him. “Uh, yeah. Dude, we literally went swimming together in that pool on Olkarion.”

Lance stared at him in disbelief, before realization swept over him. Hunk saying it out loud temporarily convinced him of Keith’s swimming abilities. He gasped in relief, head slumped forward. Keith shrugged Lance’s hands off his shoulders. “You seriously don’t remember?” he said, almost laughing, but the fact that Lance forgot, even for a second, was a bit worrisome. It was the most time they spent together alone, and Keith remembered every second of it.

“Yeah, I remember,” Lance said, looking back up with a smile. His hair was slicked back and his smile was punctuated by two dimples. “You just look like the kind of guy who fakes an illness during the swim unit so ya don’t have to swim.”

Keith blinked, shocked, and cracked a grin that turned into a smile, and then full-blown laughter. He clutched at his stomach and tipped back, laughing until he collapsed back into the water and re-submerged himself in the waves. When he resurfaced, Lance reached down and grabbed onto his arm, hauling him back up. Allura had caught up to him, and took hold of Keith’s other arm to drag him up. 

Keith shook the water out of his hair, effectively splattering them up with a spray of ocean water. Lance shied away, laughing, and Allura beamed at him.

Keith’s smile turned devious in an instant. “Say… Allura?” he chimed, and his tone made Allura’s smile waver.

“What…” she started, taking a step back. 

He took a step towards her, and asked in a low voice, “Have you ever heard of a water fight?”

Behind him, Lance paled. He turned to call for backup, but instead, he found his sister approaching with a sinister grin on her face. She punched her hand into her open palm and smothered it with a, “Did someone say  _WATER FIGHT!_ ”

“Nonononon—” Lance cried, but Rosa was already kicking her foot up out of the water, crashing into a wave, and sending a spray up Lance’s chest. He shrieked, turned, and ran, but it gave Rosa the perfect opportunity to lunge onto his back and take him down into the ocean. 

Allura watched as sibling attacked sibling, and was drawn out of it by Keith taking her by the hand and racing away from where Rosa grabbed Lance by the hair and dunked him under. “This is absolute—” Allura started, only to scream in unison with Hunk’s battle cry.

He flung himself into the air, and crashed into the water with a wake that soaked Keith and Allura head to toe. Keith came out of it smiling, though, and as Hunk resurfaced, it was that very smile that sealed his death sentence.

“Oh, it’s on,” Keith said, and ducked down, swiping his hands up through the water to splash it directly in Hunk’s eyes.

Hunk cried, “Ah! Not the eyes, not the eyes!”

“ _THERE ARE NO RULES!_ ” Rosa screeched, leaping in beside Allura in canon ball that took them both off their feet. Allura collapsed into the water, and was immediately encompassed in a wave before Keith dragged her up from below.

Her white hair dripped over her eyes, and as she flipped it up with a gasp, she found Keith standing there, saying, “Aliens against humans, alright? You gotta give it your all.”

“Aliens… against humans?” she repeated, feebly.

“Aw!” Lance whined from where he recovered from Rosa’s dunking. “No fair! I wanted Keith on my team.”

Keith locked eyes with him over Allura’s shoulder. Lance flinched, shoulders tense up to his ears. Keith ducked low, preparing to fight, and the instant he ran, Lance was already screaming. Keith chased after him, yelling, “Tough— _NUTS!_ ”

Allura stared after them, only to realize that eyes were on her, and they weren’t on her side. She slowly wheeled around and faced a very competitive, very fierce pair of humans. Hunk sided with Rosa, inching in on their pray. Allura put her nose in the air, cleared her throat, and wrung out her hair. She swiped it back and locked it into a ponytail.

“Alright. If this is how we’re doing it—” she decided aloud. She then dropped low, swinging her arms and stilling them in a fighting pose. “—Then bring it on.”

Rosa was the first to run at her, slinging water through the air whilst screeching like a banshee. The instant she was within range, Allura grabbed her by the wrist, swiped her feet out of the water, and spun her overhead and into an oncoming wave. Rosa screamed in terror, but the sound was cut out the instant she went under.

Allura followed through the motion and twisted back around to face Hunk, who raised a fist in the air and screamed, “I will avenge your death, Lady Rosa!”.

“I’d like to see you try, heathen!” Allura yelled, and took off lunging through the water. Hunk met her halfway, and they collided knee-deep in water. Allura scrambled up to his shoulders, swinging her legs around his neck, and using the momentum to tackling him into the water. Hunk’s feet left the ground, and he fell back, pinning Allura to the sand. 

Meanwhile, it didn’t take long for Keith to tackle Lance, and for Lance to scream, “I surrender! I never agreed to thi— _zzbbbsbb—_ ” A wave crashed over them, sloshing them closer to shore where sand crept into the worse places possible in Lance’s swim trunks, and Keith kept him pinned.

Keith lodged a knee over Lance’s stomach to keep him steady. “Say it!” Keith screamed.

Lance floundered uselessly before flopping his arms on the wet sand. “ _What?_ What do you want me to say?!”

Keith wedged his forearm under Lance’s chin, so Lance had to look down his nose to see Keith’s sneer. “ _Say it_ . Out loud.”

Lance leaned forward as much as he could to spit in Keith’s face, “ _Vampire._ ”

Keith rolled his eyes. Sopping wet hair slipped past his ear and dribbled water down his neck. “ _No_ . Something more cheesy. Like, ‘Spare my life I’ll be indebted to you’ or some shit.”

Lance quirked his head to the side, brow furrowing. Keith waited expectantly. Eventually, realization passed over Lance, and he relaxed into the sand and draped his arm over his forehead.

“ _Oh, Keith, he’s so fine, my heart’s all atwitter—_ ”

Keith gave up before Lance even finished. He pushed up to his knees and rolled off Lance with a, “Fuck this” and a few other colorful words as Lance dissolved into giggles in the sand. Keith put his hands to his cheeks to quell the heat, and the purple likely now flushing them again. When he pulled his hands away, though, the color had faded back and was relatively normal again. 

_As long as I don’t look like a corpse, I guess_ , he thought, making his way back onto land. 

Water sloshed behind him, and as the wave crashed in, Lance crashed into his back, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “What? Are you embarrassed?” he asked, and Keith stiffened, jaw clenched so tight it ached. 

Keith turned his face away from Lance so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing Keith blush.

Lance gave him an eager shake. “Aw, don’t worry about it! I’ll just have to keep teasing you so you’ll get use to it.”

“You know that doesn’t work,” Keith muttered, crossing his arms. They’d drifted so far down the shore that Shiro’s umbrella was but a dot. Hunk, Rosa, and Allura were all still fighting in the wake a few paces down the sand, so Keith plucked Lance’s arm off his shoulders and stepped away. “I… I just don’t feel comfortable with you saying stuff like that in front of them.”

Lance’s shoulders slumped, and Keith looked down at his feet so he wouldn’t have to see Lance so dejected. “But… do you like it when it’s just us?” he asked, and Keith took to scratching at his hair and side-eyeing Lance. Lance was watching him, wide blue eyes and all.

“I mean, I guess. It just— _feels weird_ ,” he confessed, and followed through with a shudder. He looked out to where Allura was overhead-throwing Rosa back into the ocean for fun rather than fight. “I just—I don’t understand it yet. And the cycle just amplifies everything. It’s like when you  _say shit like that_ , I feel like I’m gonna  _vomit_ but I know it’s just butterflies.”

“Yikes. Okay, I don’t want you to hurl on me,” Lance confessed with a nervous laugh. He stepped in front of Keith, who struggled to raise his eyes past Lance’s chest. “Are you feeling any impulses?”

Keith hadn’t been thinking about them, but perhaps that was because they were merging with his conscious thoughts so well. He realized then that  _he’d_ been the one to instigate the water fight. He never would have done that were it not for the imp’s quiet suggestions. He could feel the influence of that imp’s desires pushing at his stomach, rocking it to and fro with the way Lance looked at him then. Like he was  _hoping_ for something the imp would make Keith do.

Keith shook his head after a decided moment. “No. Just the water fight.” 

He’d seen disappointment on Lance’s face before. This was no different. “Oh.”

Keith tugged at his hair, side-stepping Lance. “I’m gonna go—hang out with Shiro. Bye,” he said, and hurried ahead as the hot sun dried all the cool water from his skin, and left his hair stiff with saltwater by the time he jogged up to Shiro’s umbrella. 

He slowed, panting, and dropped onto his towel. Shiro peeked open an eye to watch as Keith went for the watermelon bowl and devoured an entire slice before settling back against the makeshift pillow. He continued to watch as Keith regulated his breathing, his heart, and quelled the obvious tension the impulses were kicking him for.  _Go back to Lance_ , the imp demanded, reminding him of how he’d snubbed Lance for flirting. Of the look on Lance’s face. 

Keith dropped his arm over his eyes and sighed.

“Did Lance say something stupid?” Shiro asked, and when Keith didn’t move, he continued. “I thought I saw you two talking over there.”

He cleared his throat and said, “Nah. Just a water fight.”

It was  _hardly_ just a water fight after that, and to Keith’s annoyance, he wasn’t quite in the clear yet. At least, not with lance, who returned to the water to sulk until Hunk dragged him back down the beach to where the watermelons were. Keith was laid back then, eyes closed and face to the sky. When Hunk snatched the bowl from him, Keith didn’t open his eyes. He knew Lance was standing right there, frowning.

Miss McClain came out some time later to call them in for lunch. Hunk and Miss Garrett left to bring over more food for the cookout, and Keith took to the far side of the picnic table from Lance so they wouldn’t have to look at one another. Keith wasn’t sure what his impulses would make him do next, but he could feel the itching sensation climbing, urging him to look up at Lance, just once, and see what would happen.

He kept his eyes down and attention on the food. He hadn’t realized how starved he was until he was on his third helping, only then starting to feel full. After finishing that plate, though, exhaustion settled in. The food coma hit hard and fast, and soon, he had his forehead to the table and was content with sleeping there. For a while, he did sleep, but was shaken awake by Hunk tapping a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to the side to groan at Hunk, sharpened canines bared.

“C’mon, dude, I think we’re all gonna take a nap,” he whispered, and Keith glanced to his other side where Shiro was pushing up to his feet. 

With a grunt, Keith got up and left the table. Hunk clasped him by the shoulder, steadying him as he swayed from exhaustion. Keith leant into him, and let Hunk lead him into the McClain residence. Distantly, he heard Lance’s mom telling them the way to the guest room, apologizing for only having one bed open, and Shiro reassuring her that it was fine. 

“Keith and I used to share a bed anyways,” he said, and Keith groaned against Hunk’s shoulder and cursed at him for relaying such information to strangers. “What? It was cute. Thunderstorms freak him out once in a while.”

“ _Shiro_ ,” Keith hissed. Shiro sucked in his lips, and Miss McClain threw her head back laughing.

Rosa beamed from beside Lance and looked up at her brother. “You wanna tell him or should I?”

Keith broke his rule to look at Lance, and regretted it. Lance flushed the instant their eyes met, and he looked at the floor where he scuffed his bare foot against the wood planks. “It’s… the rainy season. We might get storms in and out for a while,” he confessed with a wince. 

If Keith’s stomach wasn’t so full and content from lunch, it would have hollowed out at the sound of impending storms. Storms didn’t matter for a while until he was alone in the desert shack, not knowing when the next storm would come through. They struck out of the blue, startling him from sleep. Alone in a creaky cabin at night, storms really did a number on Keith’s confidence level. The first time it happened, he wound up with a blanket over his head, hands over his ears, begging for the wind and thunder to die down and leave him in peace.

He didn’t like the prospect of being in Cuba during the rainy season.

Almost on cue, a slow, light patter of rain droplets began to trickle onto the roof, and spot the deck outside. Keith looked out at it, and then up to where the sunny beach was being coated in shadows. Clouds were rolling in.

The guest bedroom was dark as soon as Shiro dragged the curtains over the rain pecking the window. Fresh clothes sat on the comforter, and Keith flicked through them to find a pair of shorts and—underwear.

He held them up with a delighted sigh. “Fuck yes,” he said, and Shiro’s eyes widened. He hurried to his pile of clothes, sorting through them, and tearing up an identical pair of black, slim-fit boxers. He hugged them to his chest, staring at Keith, who turned wild in an instant. “I call first!” he shouted, racing to the bathroom door. Shiro chased after him, cursing when Keith shut and locked the door. 

Keith pressed his back to the door as Shiro slammed his fist on it and walked away. He snickered diabolically, holding the underwear up. After a moment’s debate, he went to rinse off in the shower for a quick minute, wiggled out of his swim trunks, and went to snap on the underwear.  _Bingo_ .

He looked at himself in the mirror, clad in his first pair of new boxers since leaving Earth. He regretted not getting anything at the space mall, but the deed was done. He was back on Earth with every intent of buying twenty pairs of underwear and wearing a new set each day.

“ _Please tell me you aren’t just standing there staring at yourself in the mirror_ ,” Shiro said through the door. 

“I absolutely  _am_ ,” he countered, twisting around. Training did wonders to the shape of his ass. He dropped his hand from his hip and turned away, tossing the swim trunks over the edge of the shower. “Alright! Done now.”

The shower deflected the sound of the first few thunder crashes, but once Shiro was locked behind the door and cleaning up, Keith was left alone to the appearance of lightning flashing through the room. He perched atop the bed, back straight, eyes ahead. The whites of his eyes seeped yellow like the yoke splitting on sunny-side ups.

He flinched when the bedroom door creaked open. Hallway light spilled in, and when he looked, the light reflected on his blown-out pupils like a fucking cat caught in a flashlight beam. The silhouette there gasped, hand to his heart.

“ _Fuck_ , Keith, oh my God,” Lance cried, hurrying into the room. He shut the door behind him. “Your  _eyes man_ . They, like,  _glowed_ .”

“Fuck off,” Keith laughed.

“Why’re you just… sitting on the bed?” he asked, head tipped to the side. Keith followed the motion, his own head tilting, before he looked at the bathroom door. “Waiting for Shiro?”

Keith tugged his arms tight around his knees and nodded. Lance climbed up onto the bed beside Keith. “I’ll wait with you, then,” he said, and Keith said nothing. When Lance settled in, watching, waiting for Keith to push him away, he didn’t. The tension from the storm faded from Keith’s shoulders and Lance brushed his knee against Keith’s legs. 

Keith let himself lean on Lance, tipping his head onto Lance’s shoulder. Lance reached his arm out around Keith’s back, and soothed his thumb over Keith’s side as the lightning flashed, and neither of them moved at the sound of thunder clashing a moment later.

Just as expected, the rainstorm passed almost as quickly as it had come. The shower shut off, and with it, the rain died down. Lance pressed his cheek to Keith’s hair for a moment, waiting, and then pulled away to leave Keith and Shiro alone. The fan was still humming in the bathroom when Lance pushed off the bed and landed on his feet.

Keith reached for Lance’s hand as he was readying to go.

Lance looked back, startled, and Keith lost all his words to the sound of “ _SHA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-MY OH MY!_ ” blaring in his head. Curse his brain.

“We can hang out later,” Lance said.

“Promise?”

“Yeah. I’ll come get you. Just get some sleep,” he ordered, pushing Keith down by the shoulders. Keith still hand his hand clasped to Lance’s wrist, and eventually, Lance took to plucking his fingers off one by one. Keith let him.

Lance disappeared behind the door before Shiro could see him, and later, hours after Keith knocked out and slept through another storm, Lance came back. He roused Keith with a soft nudge on his arm. He waited as Keith got his bearings, stretching his arms high over his head with a yawn. Shiro was still conked out next to him, and so he left the bed as soundlessly as he could manage. Lance fetched his swim trunks from the tub, and so Keith changed into them behind the door and draped a towel around his shoulders like a cape.

As soon as they stepped out into the hall and shut the guest room door, Keith whispered, “Where are we going?”

“Just to the beach,” Lance reassured with a cheeky smile, squinted eyes and all.

Keith’s brain was in anime mode. He couldn’t ignore the shine of sparkles in Lance’s eyes, or the rose petals flooding his vision. He blinked them away, and cursed the imp cackling in the back of his mind. He didn’t need this churning sensation in his stomach like a sea of butterflies crashing into the lining of his stomach. If his body kept this up, he’d have ulcers by the end of the day.

Though, when they reached the patio door, Keith realized that it  _was_ the end of the day. The sun was gone, leaving behind a faint blue light from the moon. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they did, everything was clear. Lance whispered for him to watch his feet at the stairs, but Keith could see them perfectly. He’d forgotten what his Galra eyes could manage in the dark.

The entire way, Lance held his hand to Keith’s. They’d never held hands like this before. Keith’s chest seized up, heart pounding rapidly, pulsating against his eardrums to the beat of the waves crashing on shore. He hurried alongside Lance down the sandy beach, eyes wide and focused solely on the cute curls in Lance’s hair from the saltwater. 

They walked a ways in silence, damp sand sticking to their toes. They walked towards the glinting moonlight on the water, and Lance kicked his foot out at the seafoam rolling in. Keith reached a hand out, focused on that curl on the nape of Lance’s neck.

He pushed his fingers through it, pushing up through the soft texture of Lance’s thick hair. He felt Lance freeze and shiver at the sensation before turning around in alarm, eyes wide. Keith pulled his hand back, flushing.

“Sorry. I don’t—I didn’t mean to,” he said, pulling his hand from Lance’s. He brushed it on his swim trunks. “Shit, sorry—”

“No,” Lance said. “Do it again.”

He didn’t have to ask twice, but the impulses could do him one better. Keith reached his hands up to the hair framing Lance’s face, from his soft cheekbones to his even softer skin, hot from an impending sunburn, and freckled from all the light they soaked in that day. Keith combed his fingers against Lance’s scalp and pulled his face forward, lips meeting him halfway.

Keith’s mind imploded. He couldn’t think or speak or do anything more than breathe in the smell of Lance’s skin after a day spent on the beach. The world dropped out around them—the ocean, the wind, the roll of thunder in the distance. Sounds escaped him until he caught the gasp of Lance’s breath against his lips, panting. Keith captured it, tingling all over when he registered Lance’s fingers curled around his wrists as he held Lance’s face by the jaw, soothing his fingers down his neck. 

Keith kissed him softly once, then twice, and separated after a third to open his eyes and see what Lance’s closed eyelids looked like so close up. He could see the veins, the tired exhaustion hugging the underside of his eyes. But when Lance opened his eyes, he was bright again, lips splitting into a smile. 

“Do that again?” he asked in a whisper.

Keith was so startled he laughed, reaching his hands back up to Lance’s hair. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that again,” he said, tipping his head to bring their lips together once more.

 

* * *

 

Wolfie didn’t know much about this so-called “ _Earth_ ”. What they did know, though, was the glory of rawhide chew toys. They smelled it from down the hall, and in an eager frenzy, they leapt up and flashed away from Krolia’s side. 

Krolia crossed her arms and looked to where a human Garrison officer was walking down the hall towards her. An instant later, a flash of blue struck in front of them, and the human shrieked as Wolfie bolted at her, paw going to the pocket on her suit. It didn’t take long for the human to register the request.

“There you go,” she said, passing the rawhide over. Wolfie accepted it gingerly between their teeth, and pranced back to Krolia, leading the human officer along at their tail. Krolia met her eyes, and recognized the shiner.

“Montgomery,” she said, and the officer nodded, clasping her hands behind her back.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” 

“It wasn’t necessary until now. Krolia, Keith’s mother.”

Montgomery rose an eyebrow, but didn’t seem at all surprised. “So it seems,” she said, looking down at where Wolfie hunkered down, claw tearing into the rawhide. They shook their head viciously, tearing the rawhide in two.

“What brings you down here? Any news?” Krolia asked.

“Yes, it seems,” she said with a sigh, bringing her eyes up to Krolia. “I was hoping we could talk privately. I’ll send one of my men down to guard your prisoner.”

“That won’t be necessary. We can talk now.”

Montgomery released a low, condescending laugh. “Krolia, I understand your concerns about the prisoner, but I’m sure my men can deal with a prisoner—alien or not—when they’re already contained. My superiors want to discuss the specifics of your prisoner’s incarceration as it pertains to the Garrison.”

“Pertains to the Garrison?” Krolia repeated, eyes narrowing.

Montgomery met her eyes, though Krolia could see how she unnerved the human woman. “To the human race, if you will.”

Krolia stared at her impassively, and when she said nothing, Montgomery sighed again, rubbing a finger against her brow, above the purple bruising. She took a step away, and spared one last glance at Krolia. “Please consider. I would hate for our proposal to be followed through without your consent.”

Krolia watched her go, and despite the tantalizing rawhide, as did Wolfie. Wolfie looked up at her, and she down at them. After a moment of silence, the door down the hall shut.

“That doesn’t sound good for me or you,” Lotor sighed from the other side of the door, back pressed to the wall beside it. Krolia glanced at the narrow view of his profile, and how he tipped his head to meet her gaze with one visible eye. “What do you suppose they could want with us, aside from a detailed catalogue of our organs?”

“I’m not discussing this with you,” she huffed. 

“Pity.”

Krolia stared at him for a moment before turning her gaze to the wall ahead of her. Lotor studied her for a moment before giving up and walking over to the cot. He dropped down, and watched the back of Krolia’s head through the door window.

She thought back to her life with Keith’s father. There was a reason she stayed away from the rest of his population, and he’d said so himself: If word got out that an alien was on planet Earth, all forms of government would converge. In a panic they’d tear through her insides just to see how another species could exist—across  _galaxies_ , no less. Religions would uproar. She’d be deemed an abomination. 

And they had the human Paladins to describe the universe outside of Earth’s bubble.

They didn’t need Lotor  _or_ Krolia to give them that information.

“I need to talk to them,” she decided. 

She bent down beside Wolfie, who was licking their chops with purpose. Wolfie looked up to her, rising to their paws. “Watch Lotor. I don’t trust anyone else with this.”

Wolfie sat, perched tall with great intentions of living up to Krolia’s word. Krolia ruffled their mane before rising.

Lotor hurried to the door, clutching at the bars. “You really think you can convince them? It’s pointless to argue with ignorant people— _Krolia!_ ”

She hurried on, boots passing silently over the tiles. Lotor slammed his fist against the door, and it echoed down the hall where she disappeared out of view.

It didn’t take long to find where Montgomery stood, waiting for Krolia to change her mind. Montgomery turned at the sound of Krolia calling her name, hands clasped around a stack of papers. The deed was done. Montgomery and the other humans escorted Krolia away from the prisoner’s corridor, and towards a higher level of the Garrison. Krolia made a habit of memorizing the paths she took, and this was no different.

She clutched at the blade on her hip, eyeing the back of Montgomery’s head as she walked them down a clean, white-walled hallway. The fluorescent lights were excruciating on Krolia’s sensitive pupils, but she made do. Earth’s sun was shit to her in the desert, so she could deal with this. Besides, these humans didn’t need to know that the Galra flourished in low lights and no light at all.

“This way,” Montgomery directed, gesturing to a pair of double doors. Krolia glanced at her before pushing ahead.

Within sat Iverson, and a man dressed in a laboratory coat. Krolia eyed them both as she walked around the table and clutched at one of the seats. She refused to sit down, not when the doctor was staring at her like a specimen under a microscope. 

“Tell me what this is about. We don’t have time for trivial human politics,” Krolia hissed.

The door shut behind Montgomery and one of the guards. They stuck to the door. “She confessed to being Keith Kogane’s mother,” she said to Iverson and the doctor. 

“So you were on Earth before?” Iverson asked. Krolia narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s been three years since Keith and the others went missing. Eighteen years before that, you were… on Earth.”

“We picked up a foreign object entering the atmosphere around then,” Montgomery said. She walked forward with the papers, and tossed a file. It slid down the length of the table to Iverson. “Here’s the report. We looked into the trajectory and targeted the crash site. We found nothing at the time.”

“You have the technology to monitor objects that pass through your atmosphere?” Krolia asked, and the loaded question had Montgomery’s eyes narrowing, sharing a look with Iverson. Iverson lowered the report to the table and clasped his hands lightly atop them.

“We do, which also means other facilities do. The crafts you came in on likely registered worldwide. It won’t be long before we have to show evidence of obtaining alien technology,” he explained.

“And aliens,” Krolia added with a hiss. Her claws dug into the fabric of the seat, and she ignored the way the doctor swallowed nervously at the sight. 

“Truthfully,” Montgomery started, hand on her hip. She tipped her head to the side with a cynical smile. “I’m glad your team left you two behind.  _Far_ more interesting a species than the other two. The research we could obtain through performing a discectomy on your prisoner would be crucial to understanding survival on other planets. Your suit technology as an addition to that—”

“We are not dissecting the one ticket we have against the Galra,” Krolia hissed through clenched teeth. “Killing Lotor would mean the death of not only the universe’s independence, but planet Earth as we know it.”

“And… I assume you never considered the fact that you were putting Earth in danger by bringing it here?” Iverson countered.

“We came for the blueprints, and for your sons and daughters to reconnect with their families before  _going back to war_ ,” Krolia sneered at them. “Have you no pride in that?”

“I find it difficult to put my pride in a bunch of children, truthfully,” Montgomery confessed. Krolia turned her hard gaze onto Montgomery then, and wished she could give that woman’s shiner a twin. Montgomery shrugged. “Pride  _or_ confidence, really. Weaponry like those crafts you brought here would be better equipped with  _skilled_ pilots. In exchange for the life of your prisoner, we’d supply better candidates for the position.”

Krolia straightened from where she’d ripped through the chair. She lowered her clawed hands, revealing the holes in the fabric and plastic. Montgomery followed the motion before bringing her eyes up to where Krolia stared her down, stalking forward. “There are no better candidates than the ones Voltron chose,” she hissed. “Suggesting otherwise is treason—ignorance to this universal understanding will not spare you. That is the fault of you and your people for ignoring—”

Something pricked her back and sent a jolt through her muscles. She flinched, and turned, arm tangling in a sparking cord connected to her back. Iverson stood behind her, holding the weapon it connected to. He was confident until he saw that tasers did nothing. 

She stepped towards him as Montgomery shouted to the guard, “Restrain her!” 

Krolia grabbed Iverson by the skull and rammed his head down on the torn-up chair. A bloody split shot across his forehead as he fell. She ducked to avoid a bullet dislodged from a barrel across the room. The doctor took off in a panic, running to the back door as Krolia went for Montgomery next.

She dislodged her blade from her hip and spun it with expert speed, deflecting a blade in the process of cutting it across Montgomery’s throat. Montgomery clutched at it, sputtering up a bubble of blood before collapsing. Krolia lunged over the woman’s body, deflecting the gun. She cracked her forearm against the man’s hand, sending the gun scattering. She cracked her fist against his cheek, before bolting out of the room, guards be damned. 

She ran faster than any human chasing after her. Sirens blared down the halls as she shot through a door that clamped shut for lockdown. She glanced back at the guards running up to it, hammering on it and shouting for her to  _stop right there!_

She slammed her shoulder against the stairwell door and swung over the railing without a second thought. As she dropped several floors, she passed a nurse who screeched at the sight of something dark flying down the stairwell. The nurse looked down to where Krolia scraped her hands down a railing and hooked her hand on the stair, flinging herself onto the level where the prisoner cells were.

The corridor was wide open. She stared at the open door, and then down the hall where Lotor’s cell door laid wide open.

The adrenaline pumping through her veins nearly blocked out the sound of struggling down the hall.  _Lotor—Wolfie_ , she thought, hurrying, pumping her feet faster and faster before skidding around the corner. She passed his door, and spun to where she found Wolfie standing there, a human’s arm in their jaws, and Lotor raising up from having knocked out a guard, hands still chained. 

Lotor huffed, tossing his hair back. “Well, lovely seeing you here,” he said.

Krolia glowered at him. “Enough. We need to move,” she said, ducking down to where Wolfie revealed the hand they carried. A keyring attacked to the fingers. Krolia plucked it out and gave Wolfie a scratch on the head before raising up to unchain Lotor. “We need to get to Cuba.”

“Ah, yes, because we know where that is.”

“Maps exist,” she countered with a growl. “Just— _behave_ and know that if you don’t, your death is not on my hands. Let’s move.”

They took off at a fast jog—a sprint, if you will, in human terms. They carried up several floors to where Krolia was reminded of the warehouse full of ground cruisers. She gestured for Lotor to follow, silently, only to stop around the corner at the sight of a guard patrolling one of the halls. The guard turned and spied them, and opened his mouth to shout.

A spiral of blue shot out and rocketed him against the wall. Wolfie pinned him, and watched the man fall with little to no realization of what they’d just did. Wolfie looked back to Krolia for praise.

“I find it hard to believe that a comet nucleus canis imprinted on your son,” Lotor confessed, hands on his hips as he approached Wolfie. Wolfie bared their fangs up at Lotor before Krolia ran past, dragging their attention away.

Lotor huffed as they started on ahead. “I’m just saying they’re rare enough to begin with!”

“No time!” Krolia shouted, reaching back to drag him ahead.

The warehouse was empty, but all of the exits were sealed. They ran amongst primitive crafts and cruisers on their way to the controls beside the doors. Krolia leaned over the panel, hands on the surface, groaning with the annoyance of being faced with  _English again_ .

“Fuck English, seriously,” she groaned.

“Tell me what it says and I can figure it out,” Lotor said, nudging her aside. She filtered through the languages in her mind to disentangle the mess on the screen. She relayed them all out loud, pointing to the words and sentences on the screen. Lotor began working after half the screen was filled with understandable words. He worked fast, removing a chip from his uniform. He pressed it onto the screen and opened up a window as purple light flooded the system. He typed in a series of codes before being brought to the authorization code. The chip filled it in, and all that was left was to press  _Enter_ .

He dislodged the chip as soon as the doors began opening. He let out a relieved breath, and looked up to Krolia in much the same way Wolfie looked with asking for praise. Krolia crossed her arms and stared dully at him.

“Impressive,” she said, unimpressed.

Lotor ignored it. “So what do you know how to fly here?”

“Just the cruisers. I wonder how far Cuba is,” she confessed, head tipped to the side as they observed the multitude of vehicles for the taking. 

“The Lions would have a global map of Earth. If we can link it to some global system, it might be able to fill in the continents for us,” Lotor suggested, scratching at his hair. He shrugged. “Best bet is… finding Pidge to—”

“We don’t have time for Pidge. They’re in California by now,” Krolia hissed. “We’ll get to Cuba and then worry about Pidge and her family.”

“Fine, then how do you suppose we access the Lions,” Lotor drawled, crossing his arms.

Krolia put her hands in her hair and groaned. This was a disaster. It wasn’t exactly on her Grand Masterplan to fuck up her relationship with her son’s entire species. She already did that with the Galra, she couldn’t do that with the humans.

_Perhaps I might be able to access the Black Lion, being related to Keith_ , she thought.

_But I’m not a leader. It would never accept me, not even for this situation._

She thought back to everything Keith told her, all the stories he shared about Voltron, about  _Lotor_ —

“You can pilot the Black Lion,” she said, and the annoyance on his face suggested he processed it as a joke. “I’m serious.”

“Yes, and so am I. I’m not a leader.”

“No—” she agreed, and Lotor rolled his eyes, “—but you’ve used the Black Paladin’s Bayard before. It trusted you enough to use that, even without a connection. We  _have_ to give it a shot.”

Lotor stared at her as if she was mad, and perhaps it was, but it was their best bet to finding the others. He opened his mouth to object, but they were interrupted by the sound of a door opening across the warehouse. They both straightened and turned at the sound of a worker shouting that the warehouse doors were open. 

Lotor turned back to Krolia in alarm, took in a sharp breath, and said, “Fine, I’ll give it a shot. But no promises.”

They went for the nearest vehicle. Lotor rigged its system and engine with the chip, kickstarting it without a key, and grimaced in disgust at the ancient mechanics on that  _thing_ . “I can’t believe I’m sitting in a pile of junk,” Lotor muttered.

“Oh, aren’t you always?” Krolia countered mockingly, and Lotor glared at her as he revved the engine and sent them lurching forward.

Wolfie barked in the backseat as a bullet cracked the back window. The barking turned into growls as headlights flared to life behind them. Krolia twisted back around to face forward, turning to Lotor, who was struggling to shift gears. Krolia barked orders that did nothing to help, and Lotor wound up breaking the stick in the process.

“Quiznack,” he seethed, throwing it out the window. Wolfie watched it go, and blinked out of existence for a split second to chase it. Wolfie rocketed back into the backseat with the stick shift between their jaws. 

Lotor pressed his thumb to the chip on the dash, and the grinding sound in the engine faded. The gears shifted, and soon them were off, backs flattened to the seats, and wind tearing through their hair. They cruised towards the horizon where the Lions stood as silhouettes against the fading sun. The ride was bumpy, ridiculous, and everything Lotor hated about primitive species, but it did the job and that was all that mattered. 

As they cruised to the edge of the valley where the Lions sat, waiting, Lotor paused the vehicle to address the fact that they were also facing what appeared to be a work zone. Bright lights dotted the base of all of the Lions, illuminated from work lamps and tents set up around them. Panels were stuck to the bottoms of the Lions’ particle barriers, and the movement on the ground appeared to be a gathering of human scientists and military officials. 

“Fuck this and fuck everything,” Krolia groaned, hand to her head. “What say you to just blowing up the place?”

“Not ideal,” Lotor confessed, voice hollowed out. Truth be told, he only experienced this form of hopelessness once before. Without his Sincline ship, and without Galra weaponry, he felt useless. Granted, after that scuffle with Montgomery, he realized he could take on an entire horde of humans barehanded. Krolia was the only reason Montgomery got out of it alive. “But it could happen. I hope you aren’t terribly sentimental about killing your husband and child’s people.”

Krolia thought back to slamming Iverson’s head on the chair, and then to cutting Montgomery’s throat.

“Not especially,” she decided. “Stealth first, guns blazing later.”

Lotor pressed his thumb to the chip, starting the vehicle up again as he muttered, “ _Seriously_ , how are you and the Black Paladin related?”

Lotor brought them down the side of the hill, coasting around the edge of the scene. They drove along a well-worn path around the outskirts of the landing zone, and circled around to the Black Lion. Once the vehicle was off, Lotor stepped out with Krolia not far behind. In the dark of Earth’s night, the Black Lion’s glow seemed blinding, casting long shadows out from where Krolia and Lotor approached it. 

Lotor stood before it, eyes up to its face facing away, towards the center of the camp. Lotor ducked his head, eyes settling on the shimmering surface of the barrier. Krolia watched as his fists clenched, shoulders tensing. 

“What is it?” she asked.

“I can’t do it,” he hissed, shaking his head. He turned to face her. “I can’t pilot the Black Lion. There has to be another way to get to Cuba. We’ll figure out how to fly Earth planes. They’ve got to be fast enough, right?”

“It’s a six varga flight across the width of the North American continent,” Krolia deadpanned. Lotor cursed under his breath, turning away to where Wolfie was prancing at something in the dry sand. He pushed a hand to his forehead and felt every muscle in his body seize up at the thought of looking at the Black Lion again. “Just touch the damn barrier. Keith said Lance got into his Lion by knocking on the barrier.”

“You can’t just  _knock_ ,” Lotor seethed. “That’s disrespectful.”

Krolia shrugged and sighed, rolling her eyes away, back to the car, and then around their perimeter. Most of the work was happening from within the camp, and so the outskirts weren’t patrolled aside from the entrance to the crescent of Lions. 

“Zarkon flew this Lion,” Lotor said, and it drew Krolia’s eyes back to him. She saw his brow tense, expression tight, gnarled hair falling around his eyes. “Even if I can, I don’t want to.”

“You have to. What you want doesn’t matter right now,” she said. “We need to alert the others before the Garrison does.”

“I have no stake in this,” he hissed.

“ _Yes_ , you do,” Krolia snapped, thumping him on the arm with the but of her blade. Lotor barely flinched. “If they don’t dissect you, they’ll dissect Allura.”

Lotor stared at her, a snarl itching across his face. He bared his canines at her. “You think I  _care?_ I only lose control when  _she’s there_ . I don’t  _want to act like that—_ ”

“The cycle only amplifies what you already feel,” she snapped at him. “Now stop acting like a spoilt, stubborn pup and touch the damn particle barrier. If they’re willing to kill both of us for science, then they will for Allura and Coran.”

Lotor seethed, a growl rumbling in his throat as he turned back around. He slapped his hand on the barrier more out of spite than anything else. As he did, Krolia huffed an annoyed, “ _Finally_ . God, you’re, like, a thousand years older than me.”

“More than that,” he muttered, sparing a scowl in her direction before turning his eyes up to the Black Lion. 

Slowly, he closed his eyes, and willed the energy pulsing beneath his palm to flow through him. He felt it trickle across his fingers, over his palm, up his arm like the chill of dunking his hand into a mound of snow. He let out a shuddering breath and waited, forcing back the fear and anger of having to face the Black Lion on such a personal level.

“Please, just let me in,” he whispered, tipping his forehead against the barrier. 

The connection drifted through him in the voice of a man he knew. He heard his name called from the Black Lion, and he nearly broke the connection thinking it was his father. Instead, Shiro’s voice pulled him forward. “ _Lotor? What are you doing here? Where’s Krolia?_ ” he demanded, and Lotor felt the aggression like a hand to his throat.

_She’s with me. We’re trying to get to you_ , he responded.  _Listen—the Garrison is only looking to research us. Understand our biology. We need to leave Earth_ .

“ _What are you suggesting?_ ”

_I’m suggesting you allow me to pilot the Black Lion—just this once_ .

He was met with silence, and the startling emptiness in his mind had him retracting. He looked up to the impassive form of the Black Lion. He drew his hand back. 

“What? What is it?” Krolia demanded.

“Shiro won’t let me in,” he confessed, stepping away. He stared at the ground where the particle barrier disappeared. 

He felt the connection, though. He’d never heard of that, not with the Red Lion in Galran custody. He had a stake in this, and it was the fact that he was tied to Voltron whether he liked it or not. If the Black Lion wasn’t for him, then he’d need to look closer, to one that  _did_ fit him. He wasn’t a leader, Shiro knew that, the Black Lion knew that.

“We’re asking the wrong Lion,” he said, turning back to the car. He ran, and Krolia had no choice but to follow.

As they entered the vehicle and set the engine rumbling, vehicles from the Garrison began spilling over the edge of the valley in pursuit of them. They were too far to bother with at the moment, and Lotor’s sights were already on their target. He jolted them forward, and Wolfie raced after them, lunging into the back seat in a flash of blue.

Krolia stared at Lotor as he spun them around the outskirts of the Lions, passing Blue. As much as he wanted to believe that he and Allura shared the same interests, they didn’t. He wasn’t loyal like she wanted him to be. He could never pilot Blue, not in this lifetime or the next. 

“I’m not fit to be a leader of Voltron,” he explained to Krolia, tearing past the Red Lion. He was rash, sure, but he was calculated. Instincts weren’t what fueled him, powered him. “It has to do with what you contribute to the team. We have to pick the one that fits me the most to even stand a chance using the Lions to get to the others.”

He screeched the car to a halt, wheels spinning in the sand. They fishtailed to a halt at the base of the Green Lion’s glowing particle barrier. He was out of the vehicle, tearing the chip off the dash, and racing to the barrier. His shadow stretched out into the desert where Krolia stepped out of the passenger’s seat, staring in shock as the ground shook beneath them with the force of the Green Lion rising to its feet.

Lotor’s shadow vanished from the desert ground as the particle barrier lifted. Krolia was too shocked to move, at least, not until the Green Lion bent forward to open its mouth to Lotor. The shock of the barrier disappearing, and the Lion moving, had the human camp in a panic. Garrison vehicles tore towards them, and it was the sound of their engines revving that sent Krolia forward, chasing after Lotor up into the mouth of the Green Lion.

They were both panting by the time they arrived at the cockpit. Lotor clutched at the seat, watching as the dashboard panels all flared to life. They were washed over in green and white, eyes wide as the Green Lion came to life and lifted them up from the ground. Wolfie kicked their front paws up on the dash, and stared out at the human camp beneath them.

Lotor gasped, relieved, and slowly lowered himself into Pidge’s seat. “Alright,” he said, reaching forward to pull forth a model of Earth. He spoke the command to the Green Lion, glancing at Krolia as he said, “Take us to Cuba.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DID NOT EXPECT TO EVEN WRITE A KISS SCENE SORRY I GUESS THIS IS SLOWBURN NOW BECAUSE WE'RE AT 50K
> 
> I DON'T USUALLY WRITE SLOWBURN SORRY FOR THE SUFFERING !!! Also, tags are updated :O I have nO CLUE where to go from here. Lotor piloting the Green Lion was my personal end game so idk what else is supposed to happen aside from everyone going to Olkarion again to build the castle *shrug*


	9. 2.3 || Paradise Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes sideways at the Garrison. The Holts get a startling wake-up call.

Everyone woke up at bizarre hours of the night due to the  _eight-hour-long nap session_ . Hunk came over to help make a midnight snack, and by then, Keith and Lance were back to the house pretending they didn’t just make out together on the beach. 

Hunk tossed steaming hot tamales onto a plate and slid it across the counter to where Keith made the mistake of picking one up with his bare hands. 

“ _Yikes!_ ” he shrieked, dropping it on the floor. He bent down to pick it up, only to yelp again because it was still  _smoking hot_ .

Hunk hurried over with the tongs and swiped it up after another failed Keith Attempt to pick it up. “I told you they were hot!” Hunk said, scolding Keith with a flick of his hand. Keith pouted at him, dropping back onto the stool.

Lance settled in next to Keith, eyes trailing from Keith’s cute pout to where Hunk tossed the tamale in the trash. Miss McClain and Rosa had gone to bed at a relatively reasonable time, and so that left Lance, Keith, Allura, Coran, and Hunk wide awake at this ungodly hour. Shiro was still passed out, intent on sleeping for another hour. Patches of red colored Allura’s shoulders and cheeks, and so Lance brought out an aloe vera plant to remedy that. He plucked off a leaf and pushed it back to its position at the end of the countertop, near the tiled backsplash. 

“Here, Allura, this will help the burn,” he said, swinging around and hopping to his feet. Allura rose her eyebrows at him as he squeezed out a gob of clear fluid onto her shoulder.

She squeaked, and then sighed at the cool sensation. Lance rubbed it in, and Keith ignored, once again, the green monster his impulses wanted to make out of him. He listened but refused to entertain the imp as it chanted,  _Tear her apart—limb—by—fucking—limb_ . He huffed and perched his chin on his hand, scowling at the too-hot tamales as Allura asked what plant that was. Lance pulled up a chair with a smile, cracking the leaf down further as he answered her question. 

Coran was busy on his tablet, scrolling through messages from the group chat. Keith noticed a photo through the transparent screen and brought his own tablet up to see for himself. It was from Pidge, while they’d all been sleeping. Evidently she got her rest on the plane to California to visit her mother.

There was a photograph of the four of them in the pristine white surroundings of a hospital. Pidge’s mom was there, looking fine if not a bit thin. Her eyes were red from crying. Hunk leant over the counter to see the photo, and awed at the sight of it. “I wonder why she’s at the hospital,” he said.

Coran cleared his throat from the table. “Evidently their mother fell ill after Pidge’s disappearance. She’s been staying at a… psych ward since.”

Keith turned to stare at Coran, and then over to where Lance straightened in his chair. Lance glanced over at Keith and Hunk, expression falling. “Seriously?” Lance asked, and Coran shrugged.

“I’m not quite sure what that is,” he confessed, and held the tablet out to Lance. Lance’s brow tensed with worry, eyes wide as he scrolled through Pidge’s private messages to Coran. Keith’s insides churned as Lance clasped a hand over his mouth and handed the tablet back. “What  _is_ a psych ward?”

Hunk cleared his throat. “You know what, man, we should hook you up to the wifi,” he suggested, waving the tablet over. Coran got up and followed him out of the room as Hunk murmured something about the McClain’s router having a direct link. Coran said about being interested in learning what ‘memes’ were.

Keith reached for a tamale and devoured it along with his feelings about Miss Holt losing her mind.

“I take it the psych ward isn’t a good omen,” Allura said, twisting an aloe vera leaf between her fingers. She held it up as Lance looked towards her. “Is this edible?”

Lance took it from her with a shake of his head. “I don’t know if Alteans have this, but… basically it’s a place where patients go to get better mentally. Like, physically they’re fine—sometimes—but the chemicals in their brains are all…  _wah_ , you know what I mean?” He made a wild gesture with his hands. He dropped his hands to his lap. “It makes it difficult for them to function in society. Usually they don’t go to a psych ward unless it gets  _real_ bad. Like, they’re a danger to themselves or others.”

“That’s unfortunate,” she said, shoulders slumping. “I hope Pidge and Matt’s mother gets well soon.” 

“Nothing that a  _card can’t cure_ ,” Keith said sarcastically, picking up another tamale. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I could’ve gotten sent to one of those if assaulting Iverson didn’t get me thrown in prison first.”

“Mentally you’re fine though, right?” Lance asked, and Keith shrugged, staring at the dark window.

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “After Shiro disappeared, I kind of went a little crazy, I guess.”

“Does that happen often?” Allura asked. “Do most humans suffer mentally?”

“Vast majority do, I think,” Lance said, and Allura pursed her lips, brow furrowed in deep thought. “Like… I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about Shiro—I mean, maybe you have. Sometimes in the whole mind-meld I can feel it. You know what I mean, Keith?”

“Maybe.” Of course he had. He just felt like being a shitty person and just ignored it. The rest of the team did, too, and look where that got them. He glanced back at the hallway where the guest room was.

“There’s this thing called PTSD, and it’s basically where a human’s brain can’t process traumatic incidences. Like, I had a cousin who was in the war and he used to sleepwalk. One time he woke up five miles out into town with no memory of getting there because he’d been asleep the entire time,” Lance explained.

“What do you do in those instances?”

“Well, there’s this thing called EMDR therapy, and  _basically_ , it’s just trying to get your brain to  _process_ those instances that are triggering PTSD breakdowns,” Lance explained, leaning forward on the table. He propped his elbow up on the table and gestured with his hands as he continued. “We’re still trying to understand the brain, but from what we  _know_ … EMDR therapy involves stimulating both hemispheres of a person’s brain when you’re going through the events that triggered the breakdowns. It basically forces the brain to categorize that information, and to stop it from taking over all parts and aspects of your life.”

“Will Shiro go through EMDR?” she asked, and Lance shrugged.

“I… don’t know. I mean, he’d have to stay on Earth,” he confessed.

“What if we brought information about EMDR with us?” The suggestion had Lance hesitating, and then looking over to where Keith was stuffing his face with tamales. “Perhaps we could ask Pidge to download as much information as she can and bring it with us back to Olkarion.”

“I mean… it’d be worth a shot, yeah,” Lance said, a smile reaching his face. “And I don’t think any therapist is gonna believe anything that happened to Shiro anyways. That would probably complicate things here.”

“Perfect! Then it’s settled—I’ll message Pidge and- Oh! We should take a group picture to accompany the message.” Allura burst up to her feet, and hurried over to drag Keith off of his stool. Keith stumbled, half of a tamale stuck out of his mouth, and clashed into Lance’s side as Allura squeezed together with them. She wedged herself between them and held the tablet out. Keith plucked the tamale out just in time to smile like he meant it before it was permanently stored in Allura’s photo albums.

As Allura accepted a tamale and munched on it, she typed in a message to Pidge and didn’t look up until it was finished. In that time, Shiro emerged from the bedroom with his arms stretched high, a yawn parting his lips. 

“Morning everybody,” he said, sarcastically.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine. I just had this  _really_ weird dream…” he confessed, and instantly, Allura was on her toes. 

“Dreams? What kind of dreams? Are you sleepwalking right now?” she asked, holding her arms out as if to catch him. Lance slapped a hand to his forehead.

Shiro rose an eyebrow at him, scratching at his snow white hair. “What? No, I’m very awake and very conscious of you looking at me like I’m about to pass out.”

Allura dropped her arms and settled into a chair with a mildly disappointed, “Oh,” and went back to eating her tamale. Shiro went to sit beside Keith and used a knife from the counter to sever his tamale in half. While Lance stared at him like he’d just committed a murder, Keith asked what his dream was about.

Shiro swallowed down half of the tamale before answering. “I don’t know. It was really bizarre… like, Lotor was trying to fly the Black Lion… and a frog was being dissected…”

“ _Lotor_ flying the  _Black Lion_ ? Pff, yeah, definitely a dream,” Lance scoffed.

Hunk returned, confessing that Coran now had access to Google. “I’m unsure what this means for all of our mental stabilities, but I think it’s for the better,” he confessed, crossing his arms firmly and smiling with purpose. 

At that exact moment, a torrent of wind cut over the house. Keith flinched, and looked towards the patio door, expecting rain, and instead saw the shadow of something  _massive_ descending into the ocean. It collided with the water like thunder, and flashed yellow lights into the kitchen. A gust of wind flung the kitchen windows open, and Lance hurried to shut them. He locked them in place, squinting out at the lights. 

“What the fuck is that?” Keith asked, hopping off his stool. 

He cranked open the patio door and was instantly assaulted by the wind. He stepped to the side, staggering, and caught his balance as the glare subsided, and he picked out those two yellow dots like the eyes of one of the Lions. He looked back at the team all filing out onto the deck before hurrying forward. Keith lunged from the deck stairs and raced across the sand between palm trees. He started to recognize the shape of the Green Lion against the light of the moon, and how she craned her neck down and opened her maw to the beach.

Keith skidded to a halt, kicking up sand in his wake as he watched his mother descend from the ramp with Lotor at her back, hands unbound and free from his restraints. Just as he was preparing to lunge into action, Krolia snapped her hand out to stop Lotor from going any further.

Lotor froze, clasped a hand over his eyes, and turned away. “Ah—Don’t let me look at Allura, please. I’d really like to stay lucid for this,” he shouted over the wind.

Allura hesitated farther up the beach. Keith looked between them, and then gave his mother a “What the Hell?” sort of look. Shiro paled from amongst the palm trees, hand to his weary head. “ _Fuck_ , it wasn’t a dream,” he said.

“Allura—Coran—The four of us are in danger,” Krolia explained. Coran rushed past them all, tablet abandoned at his hip.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” he asked, and then pointed at the Green Lion. “Is Pidge here?”

“No, we need to get Pidge and leave as soon as possible,” Krolia said. “I’ll explain on the way to the Garrison, just—everyone, get into the Lion!”

Hunk laughed from all the nerves. “Uh, not with Lotor untied I’m not!” he cried.

“That might be a little difficult considering I flew us here,” Lotor said, hand still over his eyes and back still to them all. Keith’s “What the Hell?” gesture evolved into a “What the actual fuck is going on?” look. Krolia sighed exasperatedly at her son before frantically gesturing towards the Lion. 

“Wait! No, we need to get our things together! Keith’s not even wearing a shirt,” Lance cried. “Give us ten minutes tops.”

“I’m assuming that’s a short amount of time, because I won’t spare anything more,” Krolia hissed at him. Lance swallowed hard, taking a step back from the situation before turning back to the house. He grabbed Keith and Shiro along the way, dragging them back into motion. Hunk took off in the direction of his house, and after sparing a worried glance in Krolia and Lotor’s direction, Allura and Coran took off as well. 

Keith followed Lance back into the house, and went to gather his suit, the clothes Miss McClain gave them, and changed out of his swim trunks. He regrettably left them on the edge of the tub, and hoped he’d get another chance to purchase a whole slew of stellar underwear in the near future.

Shiro was waiting for him out in the corridor, and it was there that they listened to Lance rouse his sister and mother to say goodbye. Distantly, Keith heard Rosa say, “What, you’re leaving already? You just got here! You didn’t even get to see Julian—”

“I know, but we really have to go. I think something might have happened at the Garrison. We’ve got a Lion here to take us back—”

“Will you be able to message us?” his mom asked, and Keith’s throat closed up when Lance hesitated, and confessed that he wasn’t sure. Keith laid a hand to Shiro’s arm before moving forward.

He stepped up to the doorway where he could see Miss McClain hugging Lance to her chest. Rosa sat on the edge of the bed beside them. “Lance,” Keith said.

Lance sniffed, rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes. “I know, just give me a second—”

“No, just leave your tablet with them,” he said. Lance turned to stare at him, and Keith’s throat swelled shut again. He had to clear it to say anything more. “You’ll probably be able to message them through mine. I don’t use mine that often anyways.”

“You sure?” Lance asked. Keith nodded sternly, and so Lance fished his tablet out of his pocket. He snapped it open and handed it to Rosa. Briefly, he explained the mechanics of it, how to turn it on and off, and that it charged through small amounts of solar light. Keith left then, following Shiro out towards the deck. Shiro clasped an arm around Keith’s shoulders and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

They waited out in the damp, humid air. Distantly, they heard sirens blaring, and logic told Keith that someone must have seen or heard the Lion come in. When they walked out onto the beach, Lance sniffling beside Keith with a duffle strapped over his shoulder, the world seemed quiet and empty except for the five of them. Lance tugged his Paladin helmet on as they arrived at the mouth of the Green Lion.

Shiro approached Krolia with a hand outstretched. She shook it and said, “Nice to see you again. I hope you’re feeling better.”

“As great as I can given the circumstances,” he confessed.

Shiro glanced over at Lotor, who seemed uncertain to say the least. They studied one another until Lotor finally asked, “I take it you’re no longer a clone.”

Shiro looked down at himself, plucked at his t-shirt, and confessed, “The body’s a loan. The mind’s an original.”

“Allura transferred his consciousness from the Black Lion into the clone’s body,” Keith explained. “The virus was attached to the arm.”

Shiro raised the stub of his arm. Lotor nodded slowly, eyes still narrow when he addressed Shiro again. They stared at one another like dogs squaring up across the lawn until Allura and the others returned from the Garret residence.

“My grandma’s a wreck so this better be worth it,” Hunk said, eyes still red from tears. He rubbed at them. “I had to wake her up and everything…”

Lance reached out to hug him reassuringly. One-by-one they all boarded the Green Lion like the goddamn Ark. Keith entered Green’s cockpit and watched as Lotor took a seat in  _Pidge’s spot_ . The tension from his throat to his chest to his stomach put him on the edge of growling, but he held back as he watched all the others gather around Lotor. Krolia and Keith stood on either side of Lotor with Coran and Shiro beside them. Lance hung back to comfort Hunk, and far back, Allura stood at the base of Green’s throat, scowling and muttering about how she couldn’t be in the cockpit when Lotor was piloting.

Lotor pulled up the coordinates to the Garrison. As he did, Krolia explained: “They weren’t planning on letting the four of us leave Earth. They wanted to replace our paladins with pilots of their own.” It didn’t take long before they were in the air, rising up into the atmosphere before Green shot forward around the curve of Earth’s surface to Pidge’s home.

“I… hope this doesn’t mean Lotor’s a Paladin now…” Lance said with a drawl stare in Lotor’s direction. Lotor leaned around the armrest to scowl at Lance, white hair dipping over his shoulder. 

“I’m hardly controlling it. It just goes where I ask it,” he said, flipping back around with an annoyed huff, narrow eyes pegging the screens with a new vengeance. He reminded himself that Voltron wasn’t his goal in life. If all worked out well, Allura would finish what he started without even realizing it. His stake wasn’t in Voltron—it was in ensuring the Alteans’ safety. To do that, he needed the Coalition to win.

And it was because of that, that he was piloting the Green Lion.  _Never pictured_ this _in my future_ , he thought bitterly as Keith scowled at the reflection of Lance with his face tucked against Hunk’s shoulder, back to him as they descended from the sky. 

They fell hard and fast, crashing into the Earth with a shock that quaked the desert all within the Garrison radius. Cracks split across the crater they left behind on the ridge of the valley. The Green Lion slid down the length of the divot, tumbling boulders after it. The echo of their crash resonated across the earth, resonating with each step they took closer to the ring of Lions cloaking the tents, the camp, and the military vehicles watching over the Lions. Dawn had yet to break, and in that twilight, the Green Lion deposited her Paladins on the battlefield.

In the dust of her jaw colliding with the ground, Keith was the first of them to emerge, drawing his Marmora mask over his face. He unsheathed his sword, elongating the blade in time with machine-guns fixed to their positions. Behind him, Hunk and Allura swiped their visors over their face—Hunk clocked his bayard alongside all the military grade weapons readying to fire, and Allura swung her staff out in a curved, clean, downward swipe. 

Hunk and Lance materialized shields as the gunfire started, but Keith’s natural Galra instincts had him honing in on the bullets, ducking low, and bolting forward with every intent of taking out the machine guns. He swung his blade back and chucked it forward with a grunt, casting it in a curved hit to the nearest posting. It sliced through the barrel and wedged itself into the next as Keith ducked past the military personnel with speed and agility unknown to mankind. 

He vaulted up atop the van and kicked the sniper in the jaw. His feet touched down on the van lightly before he cut the blade out of the gun and wedged it in the man’s chest. It lodged inside the ribcage so Keith could swing the body around and use it to take the brunt of the gunfire down below. Lance’s bayard shifted with a flare of light, and he drove the sword through the shooter’s throat. 

_Guess the Castle training did him some good_ , Keith thought, reminded of their training session. He wondered if he looked Galra now, but he didn’t have time to debate the matter, because Allura was shouting in their comm units to get moving to their Lions.

_“Avoid killing if you can, please and thank you!_ ” Hunk squeaked through the mic, and Keith grimaced as he wiped blood off his Marmora blade.

He lunged forward, hands hitting the ground, feet cartwheeling over the van. He dropped onto solid ground beside Lance and took off at a sprint, racing to the Black Lion. Lance was on his heels, swinging his rifle up from the shape of his sword, and turning to take out the people chasing after them. As the bullets fired in heavy, deafening blasts, Lance materialized his shield and braced for impact.

The impact hit before the shield was up.

“Oh, fuck!” he hissed, hand over his stomach. He stumbled, bayard dropping from his hand. Bullets plinked across the surface of his shield, the force increasing with each step the shooters took closer. 

Keith froze at Lance’s voice in his comm unit, and then Hunk asking what happened—the guy was already at the Yellow Lion, fending off foes at the base of Yellow’s maw. Keith turned away from Black to search for Lance.

“Lance, what happened?” he demanded, jolting forward the instant he saw Lance fall in his attempt to pick up his bayard. 

A spray of red blossomed from Lance’s leg then, and a shudder went through Keith like a jolt of lightning across his entire being. His gums ached as he clenched his teeth, stalking forward in a jog, a run, to a lethal sprint as he lunged over Lance’s shield and cut his blade through the throat of the oncoming soldier. He spun fast with a cry, severing torsos and spearing chests. He ran a man’s skewered body through his last opponent before freeing his blade of their bodies and returning to Lance.

He bent down and grappled to hold Lance steady in his arms. Lance grunted, face pale behind the visor. “ _Fuck_ , Keith, don’t—”

“No, we need to get you to Red.”

“I- I can’t fly—”

“ _You can_ ,” Keith spat at him, fingers slick with blood where Lance’s mutilated leg hung limp.

The proximity of the shot was close enough to completely shatter Lance’s femur. Sinew dripped like blood from the wound, the open gap frayed and dangling the boot of his armor. As Keith ran them to the Red Lion, the skin tore further, hanging like threads. Lance’s head lolled to Keith’s shoulder, and Keith nudged his shoulder hard against Lance’s helmet.

“Hey, stay with me,” he ordered, stopping at the brink of Red’s barrier. The particle barrier dropped, the shimmering surface evaporating into the air. Red lowered her jaw to them, and Keith jogged up, panting hard, to where he then deposited Lance in the cockpit. He leaned over Lance’s chair, shaking his head to keep him awake. “You gotta stay awake for me, alright? Don’t you fucking fall asleep.”

Lance lolled his head to the side, gasping, “Just… tell Allura to keep my hair the way it is… when she h-harvests me like a g-goddamn radish—”

“You are not a fucking radish,” Keith snarled at him, teeth bared.

Lance giggled, but it swiftly turned into a pained, dry cough. “Yes I am.”

“Is Lance alright?” Allura’s voice chimed through their comm units. “Hunk and I are in position.”

“Lotor is also in position,” Hunk reported, followed with, “Man, that sounds weird to say.”

“I can hear all of you,” Lotor droned from the Green Lion. 

“Lance will fucking make it to California,” Keith said through a snarl, tearing Lance’s helmet off so that he could slap Lance hard on the cheek. Lance whined, and continued to do so as Keith dropped the helmet back on. 

Keith left the cockpit, nerves twisting in his gut. He wanted to scream and tear his hair out. They could handle laser guns no problem, but bullets? It wasn’t a clean through-and-through scenario like lasers were. His mind circled around the blood on his hands, the smell of it in his nostrils past the artificial aroma of his mask over his mouth and nose. Iron weighed heavy on his tongue as he leapt into the Black Lion before it even settled on the ground. He hooked his hand on the ledge and vaulted up, racing up the ramp to the cockpit. 

He alerted the team to his safety and immediately pulled up Lance on his dash as the five of them ascended from the Arizona desert. Lance was clutching his stomach, red slicking the white of his armor as a cacophony of demands and questions came from Shiro and Hunk. Lance couldn’t answer any of them.

His head rolled back against the seat, eyes squeezed shut. He counted his breaths with every passing moment in harmony with the pumping of blood in his chest. Red’s dash blurred before him when he squinted open his eyes to ask if they were there yet. 

Lotor was tracking Pidge’s link to her tablet, and honing in on her location based on that. “It’s not registering any clearings for landing—”

“We don’t have time for clearings, just land in her backyard,” Keith growled.

“And upset the neighbors? I don’t think so,” Shiro remarked.

“Lance is dying—!”

“Terrane is uneven—landing here could—”

“Fuck this,” Keith hissed, aiming directly for the throng of redwoods surrounding the Holt residence.

California approached fast along the curvature of the Earth. The Lions rocketed through clouds, leaving a stream of them in their wake. Spiraled arcs of white curved towards the Holts’ residence, the Black Lion at the head of the formation. Their collision with the forest could be heard all across the nearest city, and felt beyond that. Framed photographs and trinkets fell from the shelving units of the Holt residence—bookshelves were upended, tables shifted, cabinets flung open. 

Pidge, who had been sleeping until then, was startled awake by the sensation she recalled from the time their parents bought a trampoline for Matt on his eight birthday. It came as an abrupt jolt, followed by a cacophony of a dozen others flinging her up with her sheets, bouncing off the mattress, and collapsing on the floor. Her glasses skidded across the wood as she groaned, clutching at the ground for some semblance of steady.

“Jesus Christ…” she groaned, reaching for her glasses. She pushed them up to look around, only to screech and duck as books flew from her bookshelf. 

“Katie!” her brother screamed from across the house. Pidge straightened, eyes wide. 

Matt burst in, staggering, and halted in the middle of the room amongst a sea of books. They watched one another as the shaking ceased. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

Pidge slapped her hands on the ground. “What, you think I had something to do with it?!”

Matt flung his arms up in an I-don’t-fucking-know kind of manner. Pidge shoved herself to her feet, listening to a pair of footsteps rapidly climbing the stairs towards their bedrooms. A moment later, her father ran by, only to back track and see that they were both awake, and both in Pidge’s room. “Did you feel that?” he asked.

“No, I lost my ability to ‘feel’ when I was five,” Pidge said.

Mr. Holt pegged her with a finger-point, and a tired glare. “It’s too early in the morning for snark.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it—Katie’s snark levels are at their most powerful during this time of the day,” Matt said, and remained impassive and unsurprised when Pidge attacked him with a slap on the arm. “See?”

Pidge huffed and threw her fists down. “Well, twenty bucks says it’s another comet nucleus canis.”

“You really think so?” Matt said, perking up. “Oh, man, I call dibs!”

He took off at a sprint. Pidge bristled, preparing to curse at him, but instead funneled that hostile energy into tearing after him, flying past their father, and rocketing down the stairs. Matt lunged over the railing, rerouting from the foyer (now laden with broken glass) and booking it to the back door. Pidge was on his heels in a matter of seconds, leaping onto his back, and sending them staggering across the back deck. Matt screamed bloody murder, only to stop when Pidge pointed up at the canopy.

Through the late night fog, they could pick out a massive, looming black silhouette above the redwoods. Pidge only knew of a few objects large enough to surpass a redwood, and the Lions were one of them.

“Something must have happened,” Matt said, lowering Pidge to the ground. Their father caught up with them, plaid bathrobe and all, tipping his glasses up to see what they were all staring at. Pidge turned back to him, her new goal focused on getting her underarmor out of the dryer and on her goddamn body.

Pidge’s armor sat waiting in the foyer closet. She danced around the broken glass to get there, and the moment she opened the door, the suit fell out like a fucking skeleton in a horror movie. She scrambled to catch her helmet, already hearing the muffled shouts from her teammates as they lit up the mic lights framing the visor. She secured the helmet on, shouting, “Guys! Guys, what the hell happened?!”

“ _Lance is dying!_ ” Hunk sobbed.

Pidge blinked, her first instinct telling her that they were kidding, but Hunk wouldn’t cry over a joke (or would he…?). “What? I thought y’all were in Cuba!”

“ _We were…! Shit went sideways…_ ” Hunk sniffled.

“ _Oh, get ahold of yourself,_ ” Krolia’s voice sounded distantly through one of their speakers. The audio waves at the corner of her visor suggested it was from—what? 

“H-How is the Green Lion here?” Pidge stammered, gathering the pieces of her armor together before bolting across the house to the laundry room. Her father was hurrying down the steps, bathrobe abandoned, and Olkarion apparel activated. Matt leapt down the steps like gravity wasn’t a thing, and flipped over the railing, ready for action. He brought with him a backpack filled with clothes, Pidge’s tech supplies (including a flash drive of EMDR therapy articles). They all met in the kitchen after Pidge activated the auto-adjust on her underarmor. It sucked tight to her skin and allowed her to finish strapping on her armor as she listened to the update on their game plan.

They couldn’t leave with Lance in this state. They had to at least stabilize him—without a pod. Pidge relayed as much to her father as

“You left the pod in CUBA?!” Allura all but screamed, and despite Coran’s best attempts, she erupted. “You all realize Altean healing pods are something of a miracle, right?!”

“You were with us! You coulda stopped us from leaving it at the airtrack!” Keith seethed, voice pitched low into a gravely growl as Hunk wept in the background of it all. “What’ll it take to make another?!”

“Nothing! We have nothing here to make one!” Allura screamed over Keith’s feral snarling. “Get ahold of yourself! Stars, you sound like Wolfgang!”

“Do not,” Keith growled.

“Unbelievable,” Lotor sighed in the background of Hunk’s speaker, muffled from all of the sniffling and sobbing.

Pidge groaned to herself and shut the comm unit off so she wouldn’t be bombarded by more of that bullshit. Of course Keith would lose his shit over this. Though, she didn’t know what she was facing until they were approaching the group gathered around the base of Red, eyes on the ramp. Under the light of the moon, they all looked like nothing more than specks among the feet of giants—from the redwood trunks to the claws of the Lions. Light glowed from their helmets and markings on the armor, and Krolia and Keith’s Marmora suit eyes flashed purple in the dark.

“Where’s Lance?” Mr. Holt asked. 

“With Shiro and Allura,” Krolia relayed, because everyone else was silent.

Pidge looked to her, and then squinted, and honed in on a very not-tied-up Lotor beside her. She pointed him out and asked, “Is there a reason he’s not, like, in a straightjacket?”

“The Garrison didn’t think it was necessary,” Lotor said, and then with a scowl out into the forest added, “Neither did I, but… you know how that goes.”

“Who’s gonna tell her? I’m not gonna tell her,” Hunk said with a nervous shake of his head. A visible shudder went down his spine at the thought. Pidge looked from him to Keith to Krolia, and at last to Coran, who scratched his head and whistled idly like he had nothing to do with this.

Pidge clenched her fists at her sides. “Tell me what, exactly?” she asked sweetly, teeth clenched as she smiled at Coran.

Coran sucked his lips in, eyes wide. He swayed on his heels and smacked his lips before saying anything. “Well… it seems the Green Lion allowed Lotor to… pilot… it.”

Pidge stared at him with the same, angry attention from the start. Her wide eyes looked a hair away from shooting lasers, and Matt took an wary step away. Coran paled, eyes frantic like a goddamn rabbit—Pidge swore she saw his mustache twitch like one. She reached her tensed hands up, fingers arced like claws as if to strangle him. Instead, she clenched them slowly, shaking, before releasing them with a shaky sigh. 

“Okay,” she decided, eyes closed. She stretched her palms out. “Okay. This is… This is okay.”

“Is it really?” Lotor drawled. Krolia jabbed him in the gut with her elbow.

The minutes ticked by, and Keith started pacing, his claws clenched at his sides. He could still feel Lance’s blood on his gloves, stiffening them as it hardened into dry, brown goo. He rubbed them off on his thighs, hands shaking. His arms were numb all the way down to the pads of his fingers. The weight of Lance in his arms stuck, though, and made wiping his hands off a useless task. 

In the midst of internal turmoil, Krolia reached out and squeezed his shoulder. He stopped, unable to look up from the ground. “He’ll be fine, Keith.”

“You don’t realize how fragile humans are,” he insisted, quietly, so the others wouldn’t hear his concerns. “A bullet to the gut is  _fatal_ , Mom.”

She shrugged, unconcerned. “This seems like an evolutionary problem. A bullet will not incapacitate me unless it’s through the eye socket,” she said, cutting her hand through the air as if to cancel that myth out. Keith rose an eyebrow at her, and was rebuked with, “Lasers, on the other hand. That might do me in.”

“ _Might?_ ” Keith said.

“Are… you suggesting you’re invincible?” Hunk sniffled, eyes wide. Keith glance at his friend, and then up to his mom, because he couldn’t be entirely sure of this himself. Krolia wasn’t much help to the debate, however, because she merely shrugged in response to Hunk’s question. Behind her, Lotor put a hand to the bridge of his nose, and sighed to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WOUND UP WRITING 9K YESTERDAY, AND THEN 3K THIS MORNING SO I HAD TO SPLIT THIS CHAPTER UP. Once I finish "editing" (lmao) the second part it'll be up AKA later today.
> 
> In the meantime check out this sicknasty bullshit:
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> If I accidentally write another 12k chapter, would yall prefer I break it up or just slap it in one chapter? I feel like 6k is a reasonable chapter length but then again I dunno *shrug*


	10. 2.4 || Paradise Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mystery of the colony is revealed (sorta).

Shiro emerged from Red’s mouth, stepping down the ramp with a hand to his brow. He pushed back his hair, and revealing a very stressed, very uncertain expression.  _So much for that day at the beach_ , Keith thought miserably. 

Hunk was the first to race up to Shiro, looking back at the ramp as if expecting Lance to come walking out right then and there. Mr. Holt went to meet them and asked if he could be of any assistance, but Shiro shook his head. Keith’s stomach plummeted, heat swelling up to his cheeks and settling behind his eyes where he  _knew_ tears were waiting to spring forth. The numbness in his arms spread to his shoulders where his mother laid a hand on his shoulder.

“He has to stay in the Lion,” Shiro explained to Mr. Holt. “If… it’s anything like what happened to me, our best bet is to ensure he connects with Red. He lost too much blood, and his liver was lacerated by the bullet. Allura stabilized him, as best she could with the Lion’s quintessence.”

Tears bubbled from Hunk’s eyes. He pushed his hands to his helmet, whispering, “Oh, fuck, no—” Pidge stopped him from going further by nudging herself up against his side, squeezing him tight around the torso.

“Could one of us go to retrieve the pod?” Keith demanded, stepping forward. “That’d help, right?”

“The pods are supposed to be hooked up to a constant source of quintessence,” Coran explained. “Mobilizing Shiro was likely what shut down the pod and woke him up. It’d take… several vargas for it to charge up in the Lion.”

“We don’t have that kind of time,” Shiro said, shaking his head.

Silence fell over the team. Keith crossed his arms, hoping to ward away whatever was piercing him in the chest repeatedly. He clutched a fist against the collar of his suit, holding himself back from viciously demanding  _more_ . Lance couldn’t  _die_ from this. He walked over to the edge of Red’s mouth and sat against the rim with an arm hooked around the tooth. He pressed his forehead to it, and tried to swallow down the knot in his throat. 

On shaky hands, Hunk lowered himself to the ground. He dropped onto his bum and sat, completely still. Mr. Holt asked to see Lance, but Shiro shook his head. With Keith’s tuned ears, he picked up, “I don’t think you could stomach it.” Keith’s vision blurred, and he didn’t know why until the heat from his eyes spilled down his cheeks.

Pidge swallowed hard, looking back at her brother, and then her father where he stood alongside Shiro. Mr. Holt removed his glasses and brought them down to the hem of his shirt. “We… decided not to leave Colleen behind when we leave Earth,” he informed Shiro, placing his glasses back on. “If we leave, you have to spare us at least twenty minutes to get to the hospital and discharge her.”

Shiro nodded in understanding. Mr. Holt lowered his eyes, and then returned them firmly to Matt and Pidge. The three of them shared a determined look before Pidge looked back at the Green Lion. “We can’t take the Lion  _to_ the hospital, but…” she started, and wheeled around to peg Lotor with a pointed glare, “you can meet us there. Track my tablet, alright?”

Lotor nodded, feigning disinterest but not quite achieving it. Before they could move ahead, he cleared his throat, dragging a hand through his hair. “We could bring Lance to the healing pods at the colony.”

Keith looked up to stare at him, but his vision refused to clear. He didn’t want to remove his mask to brush away the tears as the entire team turned to stare at Lotor. 

“There are healing pods at the colony?” Matt asked.

“After the construction of the infirmaries, a few of the engineers asked for materials to build the pods,” Lotor explained, tucking his hair behind his ears and over his shoulders. “At the time I wasn’t much help in the process, but they’ve used the pods for major accidents that have happened in the city. Mostly, though, they’ve gone unused.”

“Would we be able to wormhole jump there?” Shiro asked Coran, who shrugged. 

“I… don’t know. We’ve only got communication to Olkarion. We’d need to transport the teludav to the outskirts of the colony—”

“If the Lions don’t jump there first,” Matt said, clasping his hands together. “We have to give it a shot. Voltron might be able to make it—”

“We can’t  _make_ Voltron without Lance,” Pidge reminded him, voice stuffy. She looked up to Shiro from where she sat alongside Hunk. “Is Lance even conscious?”

Shiro swallowed hard. “Barely. He’s delirious, but if I’m there to coach him through it, he might be able to stay conscious long enough for the assembly. I just want to warn you guys that it won’t be fun.”

The realization settled on all of them then that the mind-meld would likely transfer Lance’s agony onto them. Keith was the first to stand. “We have to do it,” he said, jumping off the ledge. He landed on steady feet, sensation returning to his limbs as he started for the Black Lion. Wolfie teleported after him. The team began to disperse as soon as Hunk rose up, lifting his visor to rub his hand over his eyes.

“I can put myself through anything if it means saving Lance,” he said, and started off in the direction of Yellow. Krolia watched him walk off before heading for Black. Mr. Holt paused next to Matt, suggesting that he stay behind to help Shiro with Lance. Lotor waited, watching as Pidge pegged him with a withering stare. She stuck two fingers towards her eyes, and passed them over Lotor in a silent warning. She dragged her thumb across her throat in a silent threat. She followed it through by punching her fist to her open hand. 

Lotor squinted at her and offered a hesitant, but very deliberate thumbs up. He’d seen Lance to the same some time ago, and the action seemed to please Pidge to a degree before she hurried after her father back to the house.

Matt stuck behind in Red and offered to help Shiro with Lance. Allura passed them down the ramp, and Matt watched after her, the front of her uniform soaked brown, her hair tangled over one shoulder with specks of blood lacing it. She kept her eyes down, and took off at a jog towards Blue.

Matt smelled the blood before he saw it. The entire cabin reeked of it, and the smell was so heavy it clung to Matt like a second skin. He resisted the urge to grimace and breathed out of his mouth. It laid like a solid object on his tongue, slinking down his throat and nearly gagging him as Shiro hurried ahead and crouched in front of the seat where Matt saw Lance’s hand flopped over the armrest, dense with blackened, dry blood.

“Lance, Lance, listen to me,” Shiro said, reaching out to Lance’s face. He didn’t get a verbal response. “We need to form Voltron to get you to a healing pod. You have to do this, alright?”

“I- I can’t—d-don’t make me—” Lance sobbed, voice tight. Matt slowly approached the chair, and stepped to the left of it. He hardly got past the spot of blood on Lance’s torso before his boot kicked into something on the ground. He looked at it, and didn’t quite process it until he reached down to pick up a piece of Lance’s armor—

It held more than just the weight of an empty boot.

He dropped it in an instant, and turned to dry-heave elsewhere. He clutched at the closed opening of the cockpit, hand over his stomach.  _I’ve seen worse than this_ , he urged himself, _This is nothing. This is nothing. Do this for Lance_ .

“If you can talk you can fly. Let Red take the controls,” Shiro insisted. An alert popped onto the screen, and Shiro immediately closed out of it, turning back to where Lance heaved in a deep breath, chest convulsing with the effort. “Lance, please,” Shiro begged, dipping his forehead down to Lance’s hand. “You don’t want to die like I did—it isn’t the easy way out, and we don’t have a hundred clones of you.”

Lance managed a soft laugh, blue lips spreading into a faint smile. “Fine,” he choked out. 

Shiro brought Lance’s hands to the controls. Red came to life a moment later as Lance straightened up, quaking with the effort. A jolted shudder rocked through him as he tipped his head to his forearm and gasped for air. Sweat collected on his brow, soaking his hair. He turned his eyes up to the screens, determination setting in as space stretched before him. He could feel Red pulling, coaxing him further. She filled his hands with the strength to stop shaking long enough for them to glide with the others past the Moon’s orbit, and into formation.

 

* * *

 

The rush from Red to the Altean colony facility was chaotic to say the least. The instant Keith touched down, he and Krolia were racing to Red’s landing zone. Matt and Shiro met them at the base of the ramp, and together, the four of them alternated carrying Lance across the deserted land to the facility. Coalition members were stationed around the facility, and they emerged from their tents at the sound of Mr. Holt shouting, “Stretcher! We need a stretcher!” 

The facility’s system was already cracked, and so Lotor pushed open the doors to the elevator that dropped them to the entrance. He held it open as they pushed the hover stretcher into the wide, open space of the elevator used to transport materials and goods. Allura squeezed in with them in a rush, but Lotor stopped her before she could attempt to heal Lance further.

“The planet is devoid of quintessence—you won’t be able to help him in here,” he said. Allura raised her eyes to meet his, and to Lotor’s shock, he managed to stay lucid, and livid with the situation. “I don’t know that you’ll be able to tap into it in the facility, either. I never have.”

Allura stared at him as the elevator rocked to a halt. She hesitated at the exit, watching as Keith and Krolia pushed Lance along out onto the grass. Lotor spared a glance at her before hurrying out, chasing after them to ensure their safety through the now-hostile facility community.

Lotor took command of one of the transport vehicles as Keith carried Lance up from the stretcher and into the passenger’s seat. Allura joined in the back with Krolia, and they were off. As the others joined and followed suit, Lotor sped Lance’s emergency transport vehicle towards the infirmary. The commotion they made prompted sleeping Alteans from their homes, out onto the streets where they stared in alarm at Lotor’s familiar face in the driver’s seat. They looked amongst themselves in shock, only to be disrupted by two other vehicles a minute later driven by Matt and Pidge Holt—perhaps the two most chaotic drivers around. 

The infirmary doors opened as Lotor screeched the vehicle to a halt before it. “Down the hall and to the left! Massive atrium doors, you can’t miss it!” he called after Keith as Keith bolted out of the vehicle and ran with Lance in his arms. 

Keith’s breath burnt a fire in his lungs he couldn’t quench. His legs began to shake as he turned left and saw the atrium doors at the far end of the hall. He staggered forward, gasping, holding Lance to his chest. He knew he never would have made it were it not for the Galra in him, or the impulses pushing him on, or the imp damning him to Hell if he didn’t make it to the goddamn  _fucking door_ . 

He raised his boot up and kicked the door with a grunt, swinging in with his back to the door so that when it hit his shoulder, Lance remained untouched. He staggered across the room, the motion sensors triggering the opening of one pod against the circular atrium walls. He slumped to it as the bottom end swung forward, and the pod pushed out parallel to the floor. 

Lance’s eyes were closed, lips purple as Keith laid him in the pod. His arms quaked as he dragged them out from under Lance’s limp body, leaning towards it as the curved glass sealed over Lance. The pod began to fill with fluid. 

It was then that the doors to the atrium burst open, and the others filed in. Keith couldn’t drag his eyes away from Lance’s face. His skin was pale, cold, and Keith started to doubt how Lance had felt in his arms just a minute before. Was he warm? Cold? Was he dead before Shiro passed Lance on to Keith? 

The pod completed the filling process, and Coran moved over to the control panel on the wall beside the pod entrance as it shifted back up into a vertical position. Pink fluids rose in tendrils from the hole in Lance’s abdomen, and the stump of his leg where sinew still fell in strings from the rugged cut. Lotor joined Coran beside the panel, and Keith drew his eyes away from Lance long enough to watch both of their brows furrow.

“What? What is it?” he demanded, moving forward. 

“This… isn’t right,” Lotor said, frowning. “Something isn’t right.”

“System failure?” Coran suggested, but Lotor shook his head.

“No… I don’t think the pod recognizes Lance as a… as someone with the ability to  _clot_ and _heal himself_ . The pods just trigger rapid healing—it’s nothing beyond what the body would do if the healing process isn’t sped up,” Lotor explained, reaching forward. He typed in a series of commands. It brought out a panel above the screen, and a thumb pad with a divot emerged. Lotor reached out blindly for Keith. Keith stepped forward, and Lotor asked him to remove his arm from the suit. 

He disengaged the auto-adjust and slipped his scarred shoulder out and then his purple hand. Lotor stared at it before shaking his head. “No, that won’t work. We need a human—Hunk, I need a sample of your blood.”

“I- I don’t do well with needles—” Hunk started, but Pidge was already forcing him forwards. She yanked his chest plate off and slapped the auto-adjust button so his suit came loose. Hunk squeaked and hurriedly shook his arm out of the sleeve.

As Keith shrugged his suit back on, Hunk pressed his thumb to the pad. The instant the blood was drawn, an alert came on screen. 

Lotor stared at it, a hand flat to the wall above the panel. Pidge stepped forward to read the Altean script there, eyes widening with each minute. “It… doesn’t treat live people,” she whispered, whirling around to stare at Allura, and then across the group of their teammates alongside them. 

“But, the Alteans—” Allura started.

Lotor’s hand clenched into a fist over the panel. “They’ve  _used these pods before_ ,” he seethed. He slammed his fist against the wall, the fury etching into his brow. “These pods have  _healed before_ . Why not now?”

Keith stared at the fluid gathering Lance’s blood in slim, transparent ribbons. He watched it rise to the sound of his teammates squabbling amongst themselves, of Lotor insisting the pods have worked before. He thought back to how Romelle vanished in the crowd of Olkari seeing them off, and the distant expression on her face so unlike the emotion and energy she felt when demanding why Lotor hadn’t gone after her for seeing the crash site.

“Lotor,” Keith asked, dragging his eyes up the length of Lance’s body, to his closed eyes, and then over to where Lotor stood. “Is this… a memory realm like in the Castle?”

Lotor stared at him, fists clenched at his sides. “ _Modified_ to hold  _life_ . If you’re suggesting these people are memories, I can assure they aren’t.  _I brought the Alteans here—_ ”

“The original ones,” Keith argued with a hollow laugh. “You brought the  _original_ Alteans here. How do you know if their consciousness’ weren’t uploaded? These could just be generations of phantoms existing in the same scape.”

Lotor’s expression hardly shifted, but Keith caught it—the twitch in his brow, tipped in distress. Behind him, Allura shook her head.

“But—But their quintessence—” she started, and Lotor shook his head, hand to his forehead.

“I… could never figure out why… After a while, their quintessence levels depleted,” he explained. “It took more of them to—”

“Fuel the memory realm,” Keith finished. “You’ve been experimenting on  _memories—_ ”

“They cannot be memories if they are all their own people,” Lotor seethed at him. “Who could be flooding this place with fresh minds at every quiznacking birth?! You really think this could all be—”

“Wait,” Shiro said, holding a hand between them. Keith hadn’t realized that they were practically nose-to-nose, snarling like a bunch of goddamn Wolfies, when Shiro interrupted. “I’ve—I’ve seen realistic phantoms before. Haggar conjures them in fights like clones.”

If it was possible for a Galra to pale, Lotor did. His sneer faded, and he opened his mouth to speak when Pidge erupted from below them, throwing her arms up. “Whatever the case! Lance isn’t going to get better here! What the actual fuck are we going to do?!”

Allura clasped a hand over her mouth, walking away from them all as the horror of this reality set in. And here they all thought Alteans were saved— _Lotor_ even thought the same. If someone as intelligent as Lotor could be tricked into believing an entire colony existed, then there had to be some truth into it. The healing pods couldn’t be the sole factor into dismantling a perfect illusion.

In the midst of contemplating the chances of the Altean colony existing off of Haggar’s clones, or phantoms, even, a thought came to mind disjointed from the rest. A way to save Lance.

“Zarkon saved Honerva by bringing her into the quintessence field,” she said aloud, turning back around. With the silence broken, her words rang louder, and with more intention than she might have liked. Her chest seized up, and she released that shaky breath with as much conviction as she could muster. “If I take Lance to the quintessence field, I might be able to save his body—”

“No, Allura, you can’t—” Lotor started, strained, but Allura held a finger up to stop him.

She narrowed her eyes, tensed her jaw, and said, “They were not qualified for this.  _I_ am. You know I am.”

“We can’t form Voltron without Lance—we can’t go into the quintessence field without Voltron,” Pidge reminded her. Allura’s shoulders slumped, about to gesture to Lotor, but Pidge shook her head. “We’re fit for the Green Lion, not Red. And even if you could pilot Red, neither of us are loyal enough to pilot Blue. I fucking ran off  _twice_ to find my family before helping Voltron.”

Allura dropped her arms in defeat. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, stuck between a slew of ideas that would never work.

“Allura,” Hunk said, stilling the waterworks as they were preparing to burst. Allura blinked fast, looking up to him across their circle. “You’ve brought back to life an entire  _Bulmera_ . Couldn’t you power the pod? Like, if Coran, Lotor, Pidge and I can get it started, you could finish the job.”

Allura brushed a hand under her eyes and nodded, sucking in a deep breath. “I’ll try. Yeah, I’ll do it,” she said shakily, nodding with conviction. She shook her head out and grasped it with her hands, steadying her wobbly mind. “Alright! Okay, let’s get going—we’re running out of time! The gel only sustains for so long!”

And thus commenced a half hour of complete chaos. Somehow, some way, the materials that the first generation of Alteans asked for knew precisely what they were doing, but with Haggar’s interventions, the pods were wired incorrectly and processed energy from the crystals within the infirmary defectively. With Coran and Lotor’s brains combined, they busted the panel out of the wall while Pidge and Hunk worked in the crystal generator room, communicating through the tablets. They had one of the facility workers bring the blueprints of the building to Coran, and so he worked Pidge through the vents and where to adjust the connections to the generator room. Meanwhile, Allura had a continuous scan via her Paladin suit tracking Lance’s vitals. Mr. Holt sat alongside her, hand over the glass of Lance’s pod, worry etching his brow the longer time stretched on, and as another test run failed.

“Just—Let me try. It doesn’t need to be perfect,” Allura insisted, fists shaking.

“ _No_ , we can’t risk it,” Lotor said.

“ _What do you care!_ ” she cried, scanner dropping. She looked past the glare of her tear-stained face on Lance’s pod, over to where Lotor crouched beside the dismantled panel. Allura released the breath that tightened in her chest, gasping with the effort of keeping her tears contained. “You don’t! You  _don’t care!_ ”

Lotor clenched his teeth together, lips in a tight line as he sneered, “I’m  _trying_ .”

“Lance’s blood pressure is at dangerous levels—his respiratory system is failing—we have to do something within the next minute or risk brain damage,” Mr. Holt warned. 

Lotor looked to Lance’s pod, and back to where Allura’s red eyes watered at the corners. He glance down at the chords in his hands before addressing Coran. “Let’s hook it up again and once Pidge tightens the cyro-pump conduit we’ll… see what this— _shit_ —can do.”

“Whoa, Lotor’s swearing, he means business,” Matt cheered, clapping his hands tiredly over his head.

Lotor snapped his fingers and jabbed his index finger in the direction of Matt’s cheeky grin. “I’ll deal with you later,” Lotor promised before sticking the tool in his hand between his teeth and getting back to work.

 

* * *

 

“He’s stabilized. His body went through more than we can imagine—it’ll take time before he wakes up or recovers completely,” Mr. Holt explained from where the team gathered outside of the atrium door. Beside him, Allura emerged from around the half-open door, tying a strap around the waist of a dress someone at the facility supplied. Her Paladin suit was discarded shortly after the ritual, sticky from the blood.

“Are you sure he’ll even wake up? He looked…” Hunk’s voice dropped off. He twisted his hands in front of him, pinching at the raw skin around his thumb nails where he’d been picking and chewing throughout the entirety of Allura’s ritual. The nerves wore red lines across his lips from worrying his teeth against them.

Mr. Holt didn’t say anything to that, eyes downcast. Pidge twisted her foot against the ground and said, “Is there anything we could do while we wait?”

“I—” Allura started, and stopped as soon as she said it. She sucked a breath in, and swallowed the rest down. She shook her head, straightened her shoulders, and put her nose back in the air. She finished by saying, “I was hoping to investigate what happened at the start. Of the first Altean generation in the Paradise.”

Keith stilled, and in that moment of awkward silence that followed, he glanced out of the corner of his eye to where Lotor stood, jaw tense, watching Allura with as much lucidity as he could muster. The effect just made him look constipated under her attention now that the adrenaline of setting up Lance’s pod had vanished from their systems. 

Lotor ducked his head and said through a tight jaw and clenched teeth. “I agree.”

“If Haggar  _made_ clones at the Paradise, wouldn’t there be evidence of it? Spares?” Pidge asked, glancing at Shiro, and then to Keith.

“There were hundreds of Shiros—there could be hundreds of decommissioned ancient Alteans here,” Keith said, and though the prospects worried them, Keith added, “You’d think in ten thousand years, Haggar would have  _done something_ with them, right?”

“I’ve never researched cloning,” Lotor confessed. “We don’t know how much of Haggar is still in these future generations—we don’t even know if that is what they really are—”

“For now,” Allura interrupted, taking a step forward, and guiding them to the exit, “let’s just assume the worse.”

The team marched out on their designated team missions—The Holts returned to where they’d left Colleen Holt in the hospitality of an Altean family at the edge of the city (not intentionally, she just wound up there). Evidently, the Alteans could brew a mighty tea, and Pidge suspected there were narcotics in it because after that point, her mother was cheerier than every, giggling and hugging them all and saying things like, “I’ve always wanted to go to England!”

“This isn’t England, Mom…” Matt sighed, but went along with the rest because he missed her hugs.

Shiro stuck to Lance’s pod, reassuring the others that his legs were a bit wobbly after “all that”. He preferred to pull a chair up and rest against the wall beside Lance’s pod, blinking in and out of sleep.

The other troop consisting of the rest aside from Shiro, went out in search of answers. Lotor took them back to the elevator where they scanned the lower floor for evidence. It was filled with cases of fresh Bulmeran crystals—recently supplied by Shay and Rax. Lotor was explaining how the crystals have never been able to sustain the Paradise on their own—“It never used to take so much energy, and myself and the other Altean engineers have been looking for ways to upgrade the memory realm device that sustains life. My guess is that if they want to continue living in such a place, we’d have to… restart.”

“Restart? I’ve never seen a memory realm capable of sustaining life—this is by far as advanced as a memory realm could go,” Coran said, hands on his hips. “My guess is that you’ve stretched it to its limits.”

“It helps that the Paradise exists on a localized circumference. It cannot conjure up cities outside the one they have built.”

“How do you control the population?” Allura asked. “This has been in the works for millennia—a civilization as advanced as the Alteans here would have expanded by now.”

Lotor said nothing, and Hunk plucked nervously at the skin around his nails as he watched Lotor continue on down the line of crystal generators. He looked back at Allura, who was stuck inside that implication. The tension, the stress, the exhaustion began to tug beneath her eyes, and fill them with tears.

“The… ‘other’ colony would have made sense if I weren’t struggling to fuel the Paradise,” Lotor said at last, voice echoing down the darkened corridor. The spots of light from the crystals illuminated the path, and cast a myriad of shadows around them. He stopped at the intersection of five, and clasped his arms behind his back. “The memory realm itself is far larger than the planet we stand on now. I have its circumference at three times the surface area of the planet—after several upgrades to expand it, of course. After the third expansion, the life around the planet simply…”

“Started to die,” Allura finished.

“The Paradise squeezed the quintessence out of this planet,” Coran said.

“On top of using crystals,” Lotor added. “I could never quite  _fix_ whatever it was about this device that could use so much excess power. In order for them to continue thriving, I needed enough power to fuel the device, or risk taking them out of this system and into the open. Colonize an  _actual_ planet with a magnetic field and an atmosphere. The Paradise took all that from this planet.”

“Could it be something else?” Coran asked, shaking his head. “If the Paradise is using the energy efficiently, something else could be hijacking the quintessence.”

“I… don’t know. It could be possible,” Lotor said.

Coran was eager to ask for the blueprints—they seemed to be his specialty—and so Lotor walked him off to a safety box at the far end of the room, locked away with back up materials for the Paradise device. Allura watched after them, and though Keith’s insides were still roiling at the image of  _Lance_ lathering  _aloe vera_ all over  _Allura’s shoulders_ , he felt the need to comfort her. He scuffed his boot on the ground and debated over it for some time before thrusting his hands down to his sides and giving in.

He walked up to Allura and opened his mouth to speak when Wolfie nudging between them. The both looked down to them, and Wolfie watched them both with wide eyes. Allura giggled and reached down to ruffling their ears. “Hey, Allura?” Keith started.

“Yes?”

“I’m just wondering if… you’re okay with all of this. I know how much you wanted this colony to work out,” he said, watching as she crouched down in front of Wolfie. She ruffled their heavy black mane and nestled her nose against it before pulling back with a sigh.

She stroked a loving hand over Wolfie’s ears before speaking again. “I’m not okay with it, but I need to know. Just like how you needed to find the real Shiro.”

“They were all real,” Keith said.

“No, they were corrupted—”

“No, they weren’t,” he insisted. “They were all Shiro. They all had Shiro’s mind, and he fought to keep Haggar out. But he’s only human, and these are only Alteans. Even if they are clones… they mean well, and they don’t know that—They don’t know that they’re clones, Allura.”

Hunk walked over from where he’d been investigating the crystal generators with Krolia. Allura stared up at Keith before her attention was drawn to where Hunk was wandering over, concern etched on his brow. She stood up in time for Hunk to tackle her with a hug, and drag Keith into it.

“Alright.  _Okay!_ ” she laughed, shaking her head. She tipped her head against Hunk’s shoulder and beamed at them. “This is… as good as it’ll get. Even if they are clones, they’re still my people.”

Keith nudged her on the shoulder, grinning, before they were interrupted by the sound of feet rapidly running by. In an instant, Coran bolted out of one intersection entrance, and into the next, zipping behind him what appeared to be a tape measurer. A sheaf of paper rippled in his hand as he went on sprinting, jotting numbers and snapping the tape measurer back. It went flying before their eyes, and a moment later, Lotor came back, panting, bending over his knees. 

Keith rose an eyebrow at him. “What’s… Coran doing?”

“Looking… for inconsistencies,” Lotor explained through heavy breaths. He straightened, tossing his hair back. He tied it back and stepped aside just seconds before Coran came bolting past. The tape measurer cut between Lotor and the others as they watched Coran shout numbers at nothing and jot them on the page. 

“Three feet short!” Coran shouted.

Hunk immediately turned to Keith with a raised eyebrow. “Alteans use customary units?”

Keith shrugged, but it was missed because everyone was running to where Coran stood at the flat wall at the end of the facility circumference. Coran slapped a hand on the metal, and it rang back hollow. “Easiest way to disguise a secret room would be to simply… push a wall forward. My guess is that we’re looking at a stairwell. Check either end—”

Lotor stepped over to Krolia and unsheathed her knife. “Or just tear it all down—”

She watched it back and slapped his hand away, her scowl daring him to try again. He shared a fierce look with her as Hunk hurried down to the far end of the wall. He ran a hand along the flat panel until it connected to the wall. He asked for tools to unscrew the bolts, and soon, he was working on dismantling the panel  _without_ tearing it all down.

As the last bolt clanked to the floor, Hunk stood and wedged his fingers between the panel and the adjacent wall. As he pulled, an inconceivable crack split just a body’s width away—hinged. He pulled it further and flattened it against the wall so they could all see the slim space hidden away within the facility. The lot of them leaned around the edges of the open door frame, faces silhouetted from the dark, depths of the stairwell.

“Let’s not take any chances,” Allura said, stepping away. She reached behind her and unlatched her fighting staff. She flicked it out and struck it to the ground. “We don’t know what’s down there.”

“Agreed,” Krolia said. “I’ll go first—scope it out. I’ll get back to you all on if there’s anything living down there. Keith—you come with me.”

“Yeah, yeah, good idea. I really don’t appreciate the dark,” Hunk said, waving his hand at them. “Find a light switch, please and thank you.”

Keith saluted him before following after his mother. True to her word, the dark faded, and Keith’s eyes adjusted to the pitch black of the stairwell. He laid a hand over the wall as he stepped further, following the sound of his mother’s footsteps, and then the outline of her suit, and the frayed edges of her hair in the dark. Hunk called out something encouraging from above, but Keith was too focused on his own breathing to listen.

The stairwell laid parallel to the pseudo wall, and its end arrived before Keith suspected. He staggered to a halt, hand slipping from the wall and out into the open, cavernous space below. The purple of their suit lights provided ample room for Krolia to search the nearby walls against the stairwell. She grappled for the lever and cranked it down.

The blast of the lever hitting the wall was accompanied by a stark, electrifying hum across the space. Keith flinched, skin tingling as lights struck to life overhead. He followed the length of them down an aisle of heavy metal doors. It felt and looked a  _lot_ like a meat cooler in the basement of a butcher’s shop.

Keith stepped forward with Krolia at his heels. He ran a hand down the frost coating one such metal door. His fingers trailed lines from one door to the next before he halted at the handle of one. Upon yanking it open, they were met with a frost-covered sheet of black glass, and a plume of freezing cold air.

Krolia reached around Keith and smeared the side of her hand over the frost. Keith’s mind shoved him back to Lotor’s “other colony”, and how Romelle had done the exact same.

Only, the face on the other side was just as it was the day it was placed there. Young, youthful, alive aside from being forced into cryosleep.

“Fuck,” Keith cursed, stepping back from it. His shoulder bumped into the handle of the door behind him. He turned and grabbed it, yanking it open. The door collided with the one next it with a  _bang!_ that echoed to the stairs where Hunk shouted, asking if they were all right. Krolia said something in return, but Keith was too occupied with cleaning the glass to notice, and then too struck by the face that stared back him to think straight. 

The pads of his gloves stuck to the ice on the glass panel. He studied the face beyond the glass, curiosity grasping him, and then shaking him by the throat. His stomach felt as though it was tied in knots, twisting up his esophagus. It tightened behind his eyes were tears from watching Lance suffer still pricked and yearned to escape.

Footsteps barreled down into the basement. Hunk raced to where Keith remained frozen in front of the cryopod, tears dripping from his lashes. 

“Whoa, dude, what’s wrong? What happened?” Hunk asked, grabbing him by the shoulder and giving him a shake. 

Keith plucked his frosted glove off of the glass and shook it out. He rubbed it over his cheeks, ridding them of tears as Hunk looked up to the face beyond the glass. 

Hunk jerked away from it. He staggered back and slammed into the glass panel behind him. He cursed under his breath, hand to his throat as he turned to where Allura and Coran were opening the first of many coolers. At the sound of Hunk’s panic, they stopped and hurried to where they stood beneath an all-too familiar face on the other side of the panel. 

“That isn’t—” Allura started, shaking her head. “That’s—”

“Un _heard of_ ,” Coran gasped, squinting up at the Altean’s face with newfound curiosity. The team all tipped their heads to the side and debated:

What were the chances that an ancient Altean could look like  _Lance McClain?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO OK idk if I'm gonna get into this detail cuz it just feels hella convoluted and not pertinent to the ~ROMANCE~, BUT the healing pods never worked at the start, and so injured Alteans are replaced with healed clones of themselves that Haggar produces off of the tests Lotor would perform on the Alteans to chart their quintessence levels. So Lotor has basically been unintentionally funneling this clone project of Haggar's as a precursor to the Kuron project (i.e. she could MAKE CLONES but she couldn't CONTROL THEM like she could Kuro, and even then it was faulty at first) And as generations go, she couldn't replace the clones that strayed so far from her control, she could only make updated, controllable clones and hope that the Altean would be placed in a healing pod so that she could swap the real out with their clone and spy on the colony. It's all automated, and I assume Haggar only spent as much time there as needed, and has done the rest of the work remotely lol
> 
> PHEW GAWD O MY GOD I SPENT WAY TOO MUCH TIME FIGURING OUT THIS GODDAMN CONSPIRACY. 
> 
> **Next Shenanigan:** Transferring Lance's conscious to his Altean clone because KEITH WANTS HIS BOY BACK ALREADY HE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS COMA BULLSHIT!
> 
>  


	11. 2.5 || Once Upon A Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith just wants his boy back. Is that too much to ask?

Keith clenched his fist over the Altean’s pod, eyes glittering at the sight of Lance’s face there, waiting for someone to bring him back. All it would take was Allura to bring back Lance right then and there—coma be damned. “Put Lance inside of it.”

“The pod?” Hunk cried, voice cracking. “Seems kinda cold, ya know?”

Keith shot a glare at him and said, “ _No_ , dumbass, his conscious. Allura, do you think you could do it, just until his body’s back to normal?” 

He turned back around, searching Allura out among the others. She had been studying the Altean’s face until Keith stared at her, begging, eyes shining. He knew he was being ridiculous, and though five minutes ago he wanted to wring her neck into eternity, everything in him wanted Lance out of the pod and back in his arms. Shiro’s recovery took as long as it did because his body had gone through so much—this Altean was ready and ripe for the taking. Lance would be back to normal in no time.

Allura’s eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. The bruises under her eyes, to the tangled knots in her hair, followed by the tense line of a frown on her lips, had Keith reconsidering the request.  _Of course_ , the heathen inside of him sneered,  _she’s too much of a rule follower to even consider. You knew she was a pious little shit_ —

As Keith deflated, he wrangled that voice in his head to a halt. 

“We shouldn’t tamper with Lance’s mind,” Coran said. “And we don’t know how far back this clone dates. It could be a new model—one like Shiro’s clone. Lotor?”

“I could check its records. If it really is Haggar behind this, we should check with the infirmary records for past pod uses. There could be spies throughout the Paradise if that’s the case,” Lotor said, pressing his thumb to the pod window. The blackened glass illuminated, frosted over from the chill. He cleared it to see the words better—all in Altean, but the uniquely Galran equipment hinted at the Empire’s design. From what they knew of Haggar, they couldn’t put it past her to know Altean as well.

“If there are spies, do you really want to alert Haggar to our knowing of them?” Allura asked.

Lotor hesitated, finger over the date of cryonic sleep period. Keith had yet to fully comprehend a universal timeline, but from the looks of it, this clone dated near the start of the Empire’s war—by a few centuries, of course. Enough time for Lotor to have built the first of this memory realm, and for Haggar to have intercepted the first generation with doppelgängers.

Lotor’s reflection in the glass tensed. He shut his eyes, lips drawn tight. After a moment, he released a strained exhale, clouding the glass. Krolia reached a hand out to his shoulder and he managed to bite out, “I’m  _fine_ . The cycle’s passing.”

“You look more Altean than Galran now. I don’t see why the cycles still effect you,” Keith confessed, narrowing his eyes at Lotor’s reflection. Lotor glowered at him through it.

“The quintessence exacerbated it, but now that it’s fading, my cycle’s being cut short,” he explained. He turned slightly towards Keith to ask, “Your first cycle lasts the longest, especially if you haven’t grown out of Galran juvenility.”

“What are you saying?”

“Your shifts aren’t sticking, so to speak,” Lotor reiterated. He turned back to the glass and pressed the commands to bring the Altean out of the cryosleep. “As a half-Galran, I would know. My first cycle pushed all of my Altean appearances back. This is the first I’ve seen my markings since I was in adolescence.”

“So what you’re saying is that Keith will look… Galra by the end of this?” Hunk asked. The frost on the windowpane began to melt away, cascading in thick, chilly water droplets behind Lotor. 

“Most likely, yes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a witch to chase out of this  _Paradise_ ,” Lotor said, voice cutting the way back to the stairwell. As he went, Krolia at his heels, he called back to Coran, “It should take a varga or two for the process to complete! We can assess the specimen then!”

“ _Specimen_ ,” Coran huffed as Lotor disappeared overhead. He held his fists up in a classic, vintage boxer readying to knock someone out. “Like this is one of his  _experiments—_ ”

Allura laid a hand on his fist and lowered it from where it’d been dangerously close to bruising her eye. “Easy there,” she said, eyes still on the panel of patient information on the glass. She cupped her chin with her fingers and leant in, humming to herself before pointing out a specific category. “‘ _Uninhabited’_ ? Interesting. Do you suppose she made  _shells_ of Alteans?”

“Perhaps their consciousnesses are logged in separately,” Hunk suggested. “I mean, like, if this fella had a real counterpart out in Paradise, Haggar would only be able to obtain his consciousness if that fella was plopped into a healing pod.”

“So… every Altean she cloned who never wound up in a pod is just… down this hallway?” Allura said, stepping away from Lance’s doppelgänger to peer down the corridor illuminated with fluorescent light. It glowed across her cheeks and over her mess of white hair as she turned and looked back down the way they came. Gingerly, she shut Pseudo Lance’s door and gestured for them to follow her. “This doesn’t seem like all of the colony, though. There has to be more than just this one hallway…”

They walked to the end of the hall, and it was there, staring from the ceiling to the walls to the floor that Hunk tucked his toe beneath the ledge of all the coolers. He pressed into flat floor rather than solid wall, and continued to drag his foot across the edge until he hit something at the very end of the hall, back towards the stairwell. He toed the concrete line between the hall and the stairwell space.

“Uh, guys…” Hunk said, dragging his eyes up to the ceiling above him. He pointed out the rail above his head. “I think… this hallway  _moves._ Specifically this piece here.”

They all stepped out of the way, gathering around the stair railing as Hunk grabbed hold of a divot in the corner, at that end of the hall where they watched him yank and heave until the wheels sustaining the coolers began to shift in a horrifying  _creeeeeak_ . Keith flinched and clasped a hand over his sensitive ears as the noise continued. Coran and Allura’s sharp ears flattened back against their heads, grimacing at the sound. The wheels continued to grind across the rail until the lights overhead shut off, and a new row illuminated in the hallway he revealed directly beside the last. Hunk pushed the hall further, grunting with the effort until the coolers they had observed before pressed into one another, flushed from top to bottom.

It was as if the hall they walked down never existed.

“Whoa,” Keith gasped, eyes wide. “That has to be at least two hundred more.”

He hurried down the wall, counting the divots on each section. By the far end, he reached something around  _fifty_ . Fifty entire hallways. As Keith counted, Hunk checked the next hall—this time, with Coran’s assistance farther down the hall as a gap formed. 

“Ten thousand clones?” Allura said, face paling. Allura slumped over the railing, head to her hands. “This is unbelievable. No  _wonder_ all of the quintessence is being sapped. It’s all fueling these… these… these cryopods! I can’t imagine the amount of power it’d take to just sustain all these empty bodies!”

Keith jogged back down the corridor, back to where Hunk and Coran were reopening the one with their test subject. Keith hurried back down to the doppelgänger’s pod and cranked open the door. He moved without care to his surroundings aside from his intense desire to stay with this doppelgänger until it was alive again. It wouldn’t be Lance, but it’d be close enough until the real one returned. That vicious imp inside of him would be content until then, if only Keith could stare a bit longer at this duplicate of Lance.

Meanwhile, Allura, Coran, and Hunk discussed the ethics of abolishing this clone project for the sake of fueling the Paradise instead. All of the clones were potential people, if minds were supplied to them. Would they be committing a mass genocide by shutting down the pods? Krolia insisted that they find what generation started spies like Shiro, and cut off power supply to those in order to save energy.

Keith put his back to the glass and slumped down onto his bum. The concrete was cool and reminded him that his suit was blocking him from experiencing the intense, unfathomably cold temperatures just beyond these walls. This hunk of rock didn’t have an atmosphere to insulate the surface, and the artificial atmosphere the camp arranged could only do so much this far below ground.

Nearly an hour later, they heard Pidge’s voice call down from atop the stairs. Keith glanced over at where Hunk eagerly ran up to greet her. Coran perked up at news about Lotor obtaining patient data, and nearly bolted to see for himself before he halted at Allura’s dejected expression at the bottom of the stairs where she said, chin on her hand. She lowered her hand and gestured for him to go ahead. “I’ll be fine here with Keith,” she promised. Coran nodded and hurried up after Hunk to meet with the others.

The instant he was gone, Allura rose from the steps and started over to where Keith slumped against the glass and tipped his head into the hinges of the cooler door. He pretended he didn’t see her coming, or hear her sit down beside him as he picked at the metal door and dragged his fingers across the frosted surface. She continued to sit in silence with him as he festered over and over all the times Lance flirted with her even after that first training session on Olkarion.

Eventually, though, Allura cleared her throat. The imp in him grumbled about how she always had to be  _the better person_ .  _Fuck that_ , the imp seethed.  _You can take her out right here, right now—no witnesses_ .

“I… want to transfer Lance’s conscious,” she confessed, and the angry green monster inside him had to do a double take. His eyes shot over to meet hers as she raised them up from the ground. They watched one another in silence, the question too obvious for Keith to bother saying aloud. “Lance means so much to me. I’ve always thought of him as my brother—I’m sure you know how that feels,” she said, reaching a hand out. Gingerly, she touched to to the hand he had clasped over his knee, and squeezed their fingers together. “And I know how you feel about Lance. With the cycle, you haven’t been very subtle about it.”

He flushed all shades of violet. “I can’t help it—”

“I know you can’t. I think it’s sweet, and since I know you want him back just as much as I do, then we should do it tonight, after Lotor and Coran are done assessing the clone,” she said. Despite looking like absolute shit, Keith was surprised by how lively her smile was then. Before logic could bother arguing, Keith was nodding, and they were both smiling at the prospect of breaking Lance out of his pod early.

That night as the Paradise sky shifted to stars over the buildings and trees, Lotor and Coran worked on the clone long into the dark and early morning. Keith fidgeted in the generator room, his insides sparking like goddamn Bang! party snaps being chucked at concrete. Allura sat with him in the dark, aware that the rest of the team were escorted to tents in the Coalition camp to rest. Coran came up to make sure that Allura would get the rest she needed, and so she and Keith feigned leaving and snuck into a far corner of the generator room to wait for Lotor and Coran to emerge.

The devil in Keith died down after lingering around Allura for so long, but the anxiety was still there. Logically, he knew he couldn’t hold it over Allura, and he didn’t  _want_ to be angry with her. Besides, she was  _helping him_ . They were a team now, and nothing would change that, not even after the deed was done.

At some ungodly hour of the morning, Keith perked up at the sound of steps rising from the basement. He nudged Allura awake, and she blinked blearily into the dark, squinting at the glow of the crystal generators. Coran and Lotor’s silhouettes passed down the walkway, murmuring to each other about their work all the way to the elevator that would take them up and away. 

“Ready?” Keith asked, turning to Allura.

“As I’ll ever be,” she said with a grunt, hoisting herself to her feet.

They’d seen the emergence of the clone, walking and acting like a robot at the whim of its superiors—Lotor and Coran. Allura hoped the two of them would be no different, and thus was the case because as soon as they approached the clone at the medical table, towering over it like a pair of doctors at readying for surgery, she said, “Wake up,” and the clone opened its crystal blue eyes.

“Sit up,” she commanded, and Keith stepped away from the table as the clone’s torso rose up, and its feet swung over the edge of the metal table. Allura walked around to stand beside Keith, clutching onto his arm as they stared at the eerily vacant expression on the clone’s face. It wasn’t entirely unlike what they’d seen in the pod, but now it felt like they were playing with a doll.

“Okay, this is kind of creepy,” Keith confessed, giving in and letting himself hold onto Allura’s hand as she commanded it to stand. 

She grabbed a space suit off of the wall and ordered that the clone dress. They turned away during the time it was naked, and Keith had to remind his goddamn  _useless brain_ that this wasn’t Lance yet. This clone was nothing more than a Galran droid right now, no matter how much it looked human. 

When they heard the click of the helmet fastening, Allura commanded the clone to follow them, and up the stairs they went. 

Keith walked behind the clone for the length of the journey to the elevator that brought them into Paradise. As the doors slid open and they emerged beneath the stars, Keith removed his mask. Allura kept hers on, knowing that it would take more than just Lotor’s brief reappearance for the civilization to recognize what side she was on.

They walked briskly through the sleeping city, crouching and hiding in alleyways when people went by. They took turns pulling the clone to and fro out of the public’s eye, paranoid that, despite it being several millennia old, someone might recognize it. 

Allura led them down the street that Lotor sped down the day before, and as they emerged from between buildings, out into the cobbled street, they were immediately met with a crowd of teenagers gathered near a fountain. Allura skidded to a halt, snapping her arm out with a quiet, “ _Stop_ !” and the clone did as it was told.

Keith froze behind them, studying the Alteans as one of them gestured down the street, and the others seemed to agree with the idea. They started walking— _towards them_ . Keith cursed under his breath, ducking back into the alley with Allura at her heels. The clone’s hand slipped out of hers. “Quiznack!” she hissed, but it was too late.

Keith dragged her out of the way, and they flattened their backs against the wall around the alley archway. Keith slapped a hand over his mouth, and Allura did the same, staring in horror across the alley as one of the teens asked, “Hey! What’re you looking at?”

The clone responded, voice monotonous, “Nothing in particular.”

The teen mocked it, “ _NoThInG iN pArTiCuLaR_ . What are you, a robot?” A few of them laughed and another snapped her hand out at the guy’s arm and said, “Don’t be mean to him!”

The guy laughed, the footsteps continuing onwards. “Fine, whatever. I’m leaving—weirdo. I wonder where he got that helmet from.” Keith watched their shadows drift out of the alleyway, leaving just the lone silhouette of the clone. The group chatted amongst themselves about it, and as Keith peered around the edge, he caught a few of them glancing back at the clone, worry etching their brows. He snuck back into the alley with a relieved sigh, slumping against the wall in relief. 

Allura put a hand to her head and whistled low. “Now _that_ was a close one. Let’s keep moving.”

They ran out of the alley, each grabbing a hand of the clone and hissing, “ _Run_ ,” and they were off. They ran around the spray of the water fountain and towards the infirmary ramp. They kept low and to the shadows where they could, but the street lights seemed to encompass that entire main road. It made hiding impossible, but with the streets filled with so few people that night, they made it without interruptions.

The infirmary staff recognized them, and merely stared as they ran by with an Altean wedged between them. The woman at the front desk leaned over to watch as they disappeared around the corner, and down the corridor to the cryopod atrium. Allura nudged open the door and urged them inside, whispering, “ _Hurry! Hurry!_ ”

As soon as the door was shut, Keith released the weight in his lungs, only to lose his breath at the sight of someone standing beside Lance’s pod. Allura screamed as the door shut behind them, and clasped her hands over her face with a distressed groan. Keith slapped a hand to his chest, trying to get his lungs working again as he rasped, “Holy  _fuck_ , you scared us.”

Lotor straightened from where he stood posted beside Lance’s pod. Arms crossed, he walked across the open atrium and said, “The fact that you two stuck around so long, and Keith’s mentioning of conscious redistribution… I figured you two stuck around.”

Allura dragged her hands down the sides of her face with a groan. “ _Don’t_ tell Coran,” she demanded.

“I’m sure if this works, he’ll find out soon enough,” Lotor said. He stood before the clone, whose straightened back, firm shoulders, and vacant expression appeared uninterested in the way Lotor narrowed his eyes skeptically at it, and the remainder of them. “And you won’t be able to work the download without emptying the command contents.”

“Command contents?” Keith repeated.

Lotor demonstrated by pointing to the wall beside Lance’s pod. “Stand over there, facing us.” The clone moved instantly, walking across the atrium and positioning itself as such, eyes unfocused. Keith swallowed at the sight of the clone’s identical appearances reflected in Lance’s pod—minus the sharp ears and Altean markings. “Remove the helmet,” Lotor commanded.

As the clone did as it was told, Lotor walked them over to Lance’s pod. Keith asked Allura, “Can you do this without physically touching Lance?”

“I think so,” she said, approaching the glass of the pod. “As long as I’m this close it should be fine.”

“It’ll just take a moment to clear its head,” Lotor promised, raising his wrist up between him and the clone. He opened a digital panel off of the strap on his wrist and issued orders into it that sounded a lot like he was vocalizing one of Pidge’s algorithms. The clone’s expression didn’t change—nothing really  _happened_ until the deed was done, and the body started—

“Quiznack,” Lotor hissed, lunging forward to catch the body as it collapsed. He staggered with it, lowering it to the ground in front of Lance’s pod. “I’ll need to work on that,” he muttered to himself, setting the head gingerly against the floor. He looked up at Keith and Allura. “You should be good now.”

Allura exhaled, shaking her arms and hands out as Lotor stepped aside, gesturing for Keith to follow. They stood astride the shadows of the atrium columns as Allura splayed her hands out on the glass, eyes closed. Keith listened to her deep inhale, and the steady release of energy focused through her fingertips and across the span of the glass. It seeped shimmering light through the pod gel, casting an iridescent film over Lance’s flesh and Paladin underarmor. 

Keith’s nails dug into his palms, his fists trembling with the effort to stay still and  _don’t move a goddamn muscle or else you’ll fuck it up_ . 

The energy lifted from Lance’s body, aggregating into a light, tangible essence that concentrated on Allura’s palms. It passed through the glass and collected on her fingertips like water droplets, and when she moved, hands out, pulling Lance’s essence with her, Keith could focus on how it  _did_ coat her hands like a glove of water that then seeped over the clone’s hair, ears, and eyes, surging down the length of its body in a ghostly film of iridescent light.

Keith held his breath through it all, and continued to do so, chest aching, heart pounding, until Lance took his first breath through new lungs. 

The light percolated through his body, fading from their view, and the moment the ethereal glow vanished, Lance gasped, eyes bursting open. Allura jumped, startled, and shrieked when Lance screamed, rising up like Frankenstein from the dead, hollering, “ _Whoaaa MAMA!_ Hallelujah—I’m  _back!_ ”

Lance pumped his fists into the air with a thrilled screech before leaping to his feet. He swayed, laughing, and Keith bolted forward to steady him. Lance thrust his fists overhead, yelling, “Ha  _ha!_ Take  _that_ Satan!”

Keith smiled without realizing, and followed the motion of Lance looking to his hands, and then the wrists of the cryopod suit that the clone had been wearing before. He ran his hands over it, pat them over his chest, up his throat, and over his face with a quirk of his eyebrow. His fingers grazed over the markings, and he halted immediately, poking his nails to them again.

“What the—” he started, spinning around and looking all down himself before looking up to where Allura stood in front of the healing pod. His face paled in an instant, and the scream came out before he could stop it. “ _HOLY MOTHER OF GOD—AH!_ ”

He tripped back and flipped around, scrambling with his hands on the ground to get his bearings. He jolted up, twisting back around to peg each of them with unsteady, nervous eyes. “I… don’t know what the hell’s going on, but  _why_ am I here when I’m there?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Lotor said. “We found an identical Altean clone to you and so Allura just—” He gestured to the healing pod with two hands, and dragged them around to face Lance.

Lance’s hands went to his hair. “Is my hair  _white?!_ Did you Shiro me?!”

“No, your hair is perfectly fine. Not all Alteans have white hair,” Allura said.

“No, but all  _Shiros_ do,” Lance argued, and then seemed to realize that he really didn’t need to argue this when his hair was perfectly fine. He lowered his hands with a huff. “ _Okay_ , so then do all your markings feel like stickers on your faces?”

“Stickers? What are those, human cuisine?” Allura asked, finger to her chin. 

Lance stared at her in exasperation, throwing his arms down. “Not  _everything_ on Earth is  _edible_ , you know!”

“I know, but you all have such funny names for food I can never be certain.  _Hamburgers_ ,  _sushi_ ,  _flip-flops—_ ”

“Yes to the first two, no to the last,” Keith said. He stepped ahead and tugged Lance around by the arm, leading him to the exit. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a cruiser to hijack.”

As he bumped open the door with his hip and pulled Lance through, Lance questioned, “What cruiser?” before giving in to Keith’s pull and letting Lotor and Allura stick behind.

Allura stepped over to Lance’s panel to ensure she hadn’t disrupted the cryosleep process during that session. The panel’s soft alert noises sounded through the atrium’s quiet atmosphere, from the pure white walls to the tall, narrow columns Lotor stood under. His boots clicked closer before coming within view at the other side of Lance’s pod. Allura was satisfied with Lance’s stats, but knew that if she stopped fiddling with the panel, she’d have to deal with Lotor.

At last, she gave up pretending. “I’m not interested, Lotor.”

“I wasn’t going to ask about that.”

“It’s on your mind, isn’t it?”

Lotor rolled his eyes, tipping his head back against the wall with a sigh. “Of  _course_ it is, but I can’t help that right now. By the end of the day tomorrow I… won’t bother entertaining those ideas. Right now I can’t control it.”

“You really think the cycle will end sooner, just because you’re  _Altean_ ?” she hissed, turning on her heels to scowl at him. “You  _aren’t_ one of us.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped through barely restrained fury. He caught himself, though, hands clenched preparing to feel the bite of his Galran claws against his palms, and realized just how much he had left to do to work himself out of the tempers the Galra so keen to entertain. He closed his eyes and sought to articulate what he meant from the start. “I was  _hoping_ we could discuss negotiations with the Altean elders in regards to Coalition integration.”

“Is that  _really_ what you hoped for?” she said, arms crossed and head tipped to the side in a taunting manner. He refused to be distracted by it, fists clenched over his biceps.

“ _Yes_ , unless you’d really prefer sneaking around the colony until then, or continue being viewed as hostile invaders.”

She knew what the Coalition needed, what her team had suggested, but she couldn’t help but say, “I can handle it  _on my own_ .”

Lotor’s expression tightened, and were it not for the cycle, he was sure his disgust would have been  _far_ more evident. “I forget that your maturity stagnated in cryosleep,” he said. “It seems the responsibilities that come with war and ruling over a Coalition can’t change that.” 

Allura opened her mouth for a retort that never escaped, because she realized that he’d checked out of the argument and was heading for the exit. Lotor’s insult tossed inside her mind in a volley of increasing  _regret_ for acting out like that. She pressed her fingers to her temple and felt the clamminess of sweat gathering there, and the now-stiff texture of her unwashed hair. Her father would have been so disappointed in her for acting so precipitously. When he was around, she’d depended on his buffer during political meetings—checking herself and her emotions came with a personal imperative to do well by him. 

She didn’t trust her voice on her own. She’d forgotten that Lotor was a colleague, assuming that he thought the same. 

_Quiznack_ , she thought, back pressed to Lance’s pod. She sank to the ground, and sat there wondering why she acting out when she had hoped that they were on the same page in that regard.

 

* * *

 

“You look like shit,” Lance said with a cheeky grin, voice raised over the sound of the wind coursing over their heads, over the curve of the cruiser windshield. Keith glanced at him, cheeks aching. He couldn’t stop smiling, and Lance made fun of him for it. As Keith turned back to the road, Lance reached over and pinched his tired cheek. “I don’t remember much after forming Voltron! Are we really at the colony?”

He brought the vehicle off the main road and past small hopes arcing over the hillside. As they rocketed past the peak, the wheels left the ground, only to crash back down an instant later, speeding past town homes along the way. The next hillside dropped them off on a row of steps, and as they wheels rumbled across them, Lance let out a wobbly shriek that bounced to the rhythm of the vehicle descending the stairs and skidding into the grass.

Keith twisted the wheels around, fishtailing the back, and screeching to a halt. He cut the engine then, but Lance was still screaming, clutching onto the door and the back of his seat. Keith leant over, clasping his hand over Lance’s mouth to silence the yodeling.

Lance panted hard, chest heaving, eyes wild as Keith raised a finger to his lips before slowly removing his hand from Lance’s mouth. Keith could feel the imprint of Lance’s hand burning through the palm of his scarred glove, but he didn’t give a flying fuck. In fact, he wanted that same exact imprint on his own two lips and so he leant over to do just that.

Lance reached towards him with shaky fingers, and the instant they grazed his cheek, Keith was gone. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t function, all he could do was close his eyes and wait for Lance to finish him off. He released a shuddering breath against Lance’s lips as he tipped forward, nose pressing to his cheek.

Lance kissed the crease of his mouth once, and then twice as Keith opened his mouth to him. Lance cradled his head between his hands, pulling him forward over the console. Keith dug his claws into the back of the seat, pushing forward, pressing Lance back against the door window as his mind worked to piece together the fact that  _he wanted to stay here forever_ . He didn’t want to bring Lance back to the others. The impulses came in shockwaves that shook him, commanding that he hide Lance from them forever so it’d just be the two of them, no interruptions, and—

“Keith?” Lance whispered, pushing him back by the chest.

The ghost where Lance’s hand had been, cradling his now-pointed earlobe, left a cool outline on his face. Keith’s breath was lodged in his throat, and he felt as though, if he released it, something terrible would happen. Lance would disappear again. They wouldn’t be here, alone, anymore.

Still, he had to, but when he did, it came out in a rumbling purr that he choked on the instant it rattled against his throat. He clutched a hand to it, eyes flying open in horror. Lance’s concern morphed into a grin.

“ _Don’t_ . Say  _anything_ ,” Keith snarled.

“Aw, cutie…” Lance cooed, arching forward, nuzzling his nose to Keith’s jaw, his throat, and pressed a kiss to the hollow of his neck.

Keith caught the next abomination, but it meant holding his breath altogether until he turned blue because Lance wouldn’t fucking  _stop_ . When he giggled, Keith felt it against the skin of his neck as Lance tugged on the hem of his suit and exposed, inch-by-inch, how far the flush of purple went. His nimble fingers curved their way around Keith’s shoulders, hooking on the hem of his suit and releasing the auto-adjust.

The instant Lance let the Paradise in, cooling Keith’s overheated skin, Keith couldn’t contain it. He gasped out, and the ripple in his chest came out in a graveling, “ _Fuck you_ ,” as he tugged Lance away with a clawed hand cupped under his jaw.

He pushed Lance back to the door, distancing himself from those red lips curved into a cheeky smile. “Only if you want to,” Lance teased, and Keith snarled at him, eyes flashing yellow. “I’m kidding! Kidding, oh my God, I’m not ready for that. Also, who knows how old this body is? Ya never know—I might not be able to get it up, you know what I mean?”

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith hissed, but his voice cracked. He ducked his head, pressing his forehead to Lance’s chest where he could feel Lance’s heartbeat pulsing, and his own  _on fire_ . He took a deep breath that halted at the sensation of Lance combing this fingers through his hair. “ _Stop it—_ ”

“Aw, what are your impulses telling you?” he asked, petting Keith’s hair down and starting again from the bottom, curling his fingers over the nape of Keith’s neck, and dragging his nails up along Keith’s scalp.

Lance ducked his head, pressing his lips against the shell of Keith’s ear. “That you want to…  _ravish me_ .”

“ _No_ ,” Keith snarled, slamming Lance back by the chest again.

Keith scrambled away, lungs constricting as he backed himself against the driver’s door. He fumbled with the door handle and escaped before Lance could tease him about that again. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _want_ to—his impulses wouldn’t take him that far. They were just…  _desperate_ to be with Lance after all the shit that had happened. After watching Allura cradle him and fret over him— _Keith_ wanted to be the one to do that.

The image of Lance on the ground, illuminated under work lights and the glow of his shield—the spray of pink splattering against it, tearing through his armor—

Keith looked down at his hands, watching his fingers tremble. He turned them over, searching for the blood that dried, cracked, and fell from his suit long before now. 

He flinched at the cruiser door slamming shut, and wheeled around to find Lance hesitating at the brink of Keith’s breakdown. The expression on his face—Keith had seen it before, in the McClain kitchen, discussing Colleen’s own breakdown that landed her in a psych ward. 

“Dude, I wasn’t—It was a stupid joke, I’m sorry,” Lance said, reaching forward. He flattened his hand over Keith’s quivering fingers. “There’s no pressure, when it comes to that.”

“It isn’t that,” he bit out through barely restrained tears. He stopped short at Lance’s Altean markings, so vibrant they seemed to glow beneath the tense skin around Lance’s eyes and brow. “You don’t  _get it_ , Lance—I thought you were going to  _die_ . You almost  _did,_ and- and- I couldn’t do anything!”

“Keith, I’m here now—”

“ _No._ Your  _real body_ is back there and—Pidge was talking about fitting you with a prosthetic, Lance! You lost your fucking foot and I couldn’t stop it—”

“Did you keep it?” Lance asked as tears spilled down Keith’s cheeks.

He rubbed at them furiously, scowling up at Lance. “Keep what?” he spat, wishing he had the emotional strength to tear his hand out of Lance’s. But right now, he was consciously squeezing it, as tight as he could to ensure that Lance wouldn’t go.

Lance grinned at him. “My foot. Did you keep my foot?”

Keith stared at him, and eventually, Lance threw his head back laughing. Keith slapped him in the arm and insisted that it wasn’t funny, but Lance kept laughing about it until Keith lunged at him, clinging to him with his arms wrapped around his neck, and his cheek to Lance’s hair.

Lance’s laughter softened to a sigh, holding on with everything he could muster with this new body. “Will I be in this body forever?”

“No. No, you won’t,” Keith said, shaking his head. “You’re just taking time healing. Allura kickstarted the healing pod for you and everything. It was badass.”

“Man, I wish I could’ve seen it,” Lance said. Keith wished he could laugh, but a lump lodged itself in his throat when he tried. He swallowed it down.

“Don’t die. Please,” he said.

“I won’t. I’m right here.”

“But what if—”

“If worse comes to worse,” Lance said, pulling back. Keith turned away, not wanting Lance to see the violet bags under his eyes, and the glistening of tears on his lashes. He shoved them away before Lance grasped him by the cheeks, hard, so he looked like a fish. He shook Keith ruthlessly by the head and said, “If worse comes to worse, don’t you  _dare_ fucking pull a Romeo on me I swear to God. Neither of us are that cheesy.”

“Yes we are.” He mumbled it past his puckered lips.

Lance shook him again. “Are you threatening suicide, mister? Because I will raise Hell if you do.”

“Ok, no we aren’t,” he sighed. “That was just the impulses talking. Sorry.”

Lance dropped his hands to Keith’s shoulders and brushed the nonexistent dust off. “Alright. Then I’m okay with this. This’ll be fun, ya know? Hanging out in another person’s body… cool.”

He waltzed off, kicking his legs out and giving them a little twist as he spun back around and splayed his hands out. He looked ridiculous in his cryopod uniform, and Keith couldn’t help but laugh. “Who’d it belong to?”

“I dunno. I couldn’t pronounce the original’s name. No one now, though—Lotor couldn’t find the memories. Haggar probably has them locked away somewhere.”

“Drats. Well, let’s make some new ones,” Lance said. “I say… we explore the Paradise. Lotor had Galra soldiers through here all the time—just pretend you’re one of those.”

A devious grin split across Keith’s lips before he could help it. He sidled up to Lance, running his hands over Lance’s where they settled on his hips in a confident stance. Lance tipped his chin up, eyes lidded as he watched Keith fail to stop the wicked thoughts from spinning. “Like… I’m your guard? Are you my prisoner?” he asked, and Lance opened his mouth to argue the offense, only to clamp his mouth shut with mild admiration.

“I don’t know. Depends on whether or not this is foreplay.”

Keith worked over the facts. The answer was obvious enough from the chat they had in the vehicle. “No, this is just for fun. We could get Allura in on it.”

“She’d make an excellent knight,” Lance agreed lowly, biting his lip with a slow, appreciative nod at the idea. He liked that. He  _really_ liked that.

Keith didn’t even bat an eye. Allura wasn’t a threat anymore, and he was grateful that godforsaken imp shut up about her now. The decision was made, and all they needed was for Allura to seal the deal. “I’ll message her,” he decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to [@TheSpace_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpace_Dragon/pseuds/TheSpace_Dragon) for being badass and coming up with the temporary Altean Lance idea XD
> 
> Also, that first paragraph was TOTALLY sampled from The Foxhole Court when Neil's like, clinging to the fence and says, "Let me in," and everyone's like "Good God who is this kid?"
> 
>  **What sort of Hell should the lads raise in Paradise?** Aside from, you know, roleplaying lol


	12. 2.6 || Cycle Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trio are caught, and in an attempt to hide Lance from The Authorities (Krolia, Hunk, and Pidge), Keith and Allura leave him behind. 
> 
> Keith starts to feel under the weather, and these nightmares _aren't happening_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOY I got struck in the head with Writer's Block, so SORRY ABOUT THE DRAMATIC TURN OF EVENTS making random twists helps break me out of my funk when I can't think of what to do on the previous vein.

According to Allura’s Monsters and Mana card, beyond that of her skills as an arcane archer, was a reference to something Keith  _knew_ was in his memory somewhere, but as he studied it with Lance peering over his shoulder, Lance came up with it first.

“You… have a hunting guild? Comprised of only women?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, you’ll read about it in my backstory. Does that suffice?” Allura asked, hands on her hips. Keith knew the look enough times to tell that she expected to be snuffed, or maybe insulted. Made fun of. Though Lance had never made fun of her on purpose, he’d used that tone before. Mostly on Keith.

Keith opened his mouth to interject—reassure her, maybe—but Lance didn’t give him the chance, yet again. “Well,  _duh_ ! Dude, this is such a cool backstory. Why’d you leave the pack?”

“I’m a free spirit. I don’t need to be chained down by my guild,” she said, this time with a haughty lift of her nose. “Though, since I snuffed them, they’ve been after me. Not to kill me—just to bring me back to their cultish ways. I won’t have it, but I still uphold their mission.”

“Which is?”

Lance pointed to it on the card on Allura’s tablet screen, and Keith rolled his eyes. “I don’t feel like reading a goddamn novel,” he said.

Allura swung her staff around and braced it before her, drawing her hand to her cheek like it was the string of a bow. “No worries—We protect the innocent! The endangered, the helpless. We distance ourselves from society to save it.”

“You’re basically—”

“Artemis,” Keith finished. 

Lance gasped in amazement, though he already knew it. He spun away, hand clasped over his heart and the back of his wrist pressed to his forehead in a feigned swoon. “She’s a masterpiece!” he cried. Keith rolled his eyes back to where Allura grinned boldly, fully aware of just what sort of spell she had on Lance. 

“What do you think the odds are of us getting that group of Alteans in on this too?” Keith asked. “They could be archers from your previous guild.”

“I don’t know. I find it hard to believe that Monsters and Mana is still commonplace,” she confessed.

Keith shrugged. “We won’t know unless we ask,” he said. 

Meanwhile, Lance spun around and dropped down onto the stone steps he and Lance cruised over on their escapade. The tall, untamed grass felt cool and soft against their ankles as Keith followed after him and started up, back to the city. Lance tipped his head back to follow his eyes after Keith’s ass before returning to where Allura came to stand in front of him.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“We don’t really know the area. I bet they’d have some cool ideas about.  _Ooh!_ Maybe there’s a tower we could use!” Lance cried, lunging to his feet once more. He thrust his arm out, one foot up on the stairs like he was wielding a sword. “Let’s do it! Time to make friends!”

As Keith and Lance hurried along, Allura stuck behind with a deep, distressed sigh. She rubbed a hand against her elbow and gave a helpless shrug. “Well, seems I have no choice in the matter…” she sighed, reminded of how, even before the war, she had always struggled making friends outside of her father’s court. 

She’d almost forgotten. Life back on Altea… she was surrounded by their ancient culture cultivated by her mother and father through traditional court life and diplomacy. She was raised among older Alteans and the children of them who had every intent of taking over their parents positions. Life outside of that elite circle was filled with extremes—from Altean engineering and other intense scholarly paths to a growing rise of young Alteans set on exploring beyond their bounds. Adapting cultures from across the cosmos rather than sticking to the traditions her father sought to uphold. It’d started the moment they became a star-faring race, and her father never blamed them. Expanding their horizons was in their makeup, their ambitions. 

In other words, she never had anything in common with her generation. She’d wanted to stay there, on Altea, and take over her father’s position. Expanding her horizons across the cosmos was for  _Altea’s_ benefit—not for the thrill of it.

“Allura,” Keith said from atop the steps. She looked up, realizing how the anxiety of  _making friends_ paralyzed her. He reached a hand down to her. “C’mon. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. Lance is gonna take the reigns on this one.”

“Why?” she asked, hurrying up. Taking hold of Keith’s hand reassured her that she wasn’t the only one in this. She already had two great friends at her sides.

“Because they might recognize you, and Lance looks Altean,” Keith said with a grin. “And if they bitch you out we’ll fight them.”

“No we won’t!” Lance whined.

“I’ll fight them,” Keith corrected.

“No you won’t!” Lance cried. “We’re trying to make friends!”

They didn’t get very far in the friend-making process because halfway down the main street they were interrupted by a set of headlights flashing in their direction, turning down the road and chasing them down. Lance shrieked, Keith staggered to a halt, and Allura put her hands to her hair and said, “Oh no.”

Keith spun to Lance, grabbed him by the arm, and began dragging him to the nearest alleyway. “We can’t tell the others that you’re out of the pod! They’ll think we’re insane!” he cried, pushing Lance by both shoulders into the shadows and against the wall of the building. Lance stared wildly at him as Keith put a finger to Lance’s lips and said, “Don’t. Move.”

Allura hissed at Keith to get out there—they’d seen at least one of them, and soon, they heard Hunk’s voice calling out from the passenger’s seat, “Hey! We found ‘em!”

Keith hurried out of the alley, and snapped a finger at Lance when he tried to chase after them. He dropped his hand to his side, and then clasped his hands together behind his back like he was perfectly,  _perfectly_ innocent. Allura did the same, and smiled as Krolia leapt out of the driver’s seat with Hunk waving from the passenger’s seat, and Pidge sitting there with her arms crossed, extremely tired.

“You two rascals—” Krolia started before her voice broke into a growl, grabbing Keith by the collar of his suit, and Allura by the front of hers. She shrieked as Krolia started dragging them to the vehicle, saying, “I’ve had too little sleep these past few days so you two are going to  _behave_ and  _sleep too_ .”

Pidge kicked the back door open so that Krolia could shove them in with as little difficulty as possible. Keith dropped in beside pidge, scooting over to make room for Allura. Pidge scowled at him as he turned to stare at her. “Coran woke us up for the search. I am not happy,” she said.

Keith turned to stare ahead as Krolia spun the vehicle back around. He looked out at the alley, and twisted around to look back at where Lance peaked out from the alleyway, staring after them until the lights of the vehicle vanished around the corner.

Keith really hadn’t slept all that much, and his deliriousness prompted Pidge to drag him away from the commotion, spinning out of the back seat of the vehicle set for the Coalition camp. She pushed him into one of cabana-style tents where he collapsed face-first onto the cot, and Pidge snapped a towel overhead so that it drifted smoothly over him. She combed a finger through his ratty hair and soothed, “Sleep, my child…”

And sleep he did.

For the next thirteen hours.

Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised by his sleep-deprived brain’s ability to concoct weird stories, but the instant he fell head-first into his old high school… that was where he drew the line.

He collapsed, nose smashed into the tiles in front of his locker. His knees hit the ground next, and his arms slumped at his sides. With a groan, he sat up, scratched his head, and glowered at his old locker with renewed contempt. 

“I thought I left you behind in this Hell,” he seethed at it, jabbing it with his finger.

He flattened his hand against it and grunted as he got up on one foot, and then the next, and rose to where the lock dial waited for him. When he tried his old code, surprised that he remembered it, it didn’t work at all. He threw his arms down and could have screamed at the sky had he not been interrupted at that very moment.

“Hey shorty,” Pidge’s voice piped up beside him. She stuck her elbow against the locker beside his and propped her head against her hand. She pointed to his locker. “Can’t get in?”

“What? You go to this school?” Keith asked, twisting around to look at the remainder of the hallway filled with nothing more than the shadows of people he couldn’t remember. He turned back to Pidge with even more confusion. “I’m  _short?_ I mean, I know I used to be but—”

“Shorter every second,” Pidge sang, and suddenly they were at eye-level. 

Keith cursed the day he was born, but then he heard his mother threatening him from the background noise of his perpetually-noisy mind, saying, “You ungrateful pup.” He scratched his head to try and get her out of it.

“If you don’t open your locker now, you’ll be late for first period,” Pidge said.

“I’ve been late for first period since I got thrown into this infernal shithole,” Keith said, and kicked his locker for emphasis. It didn’t budge. “What do I even need for first period?”

“Nothing. But you can’t go to first period without opening your locker,” she said, examining her nails as she did so. She pegged a sly grin in his direction before saying, “Say… I can get that locker open for you if ya do me a favor.”

“What are you, the troll under the bridge?” he whined, spinning around to slam his back against the locker and slide down. Considering he was shorter than usual, it didn’t take much effort, and Pidge only followed him down, arms draped over her knees as she tipped her head to the side. He shook his head tiredly. “What is it? What do you want?”

She rolled her eyes to the gradually thinning crowd in the hallway. Time was ticking. It wouldn’t be long before the first period bell rang, and whatever poor souls were caught out and about after that? Well, let’s just say the principle’s office was not a forgiving place. 

“Well…” she droned, sliding her attention back to him. “Homecoming’s coming up.”

“And? You want me to take you so you don’t look like a loser?” he asked, and she laughed like the witch she was.

She laid a hand to her chest and said, “Who, me? I don’t care about that shit, you know me. My friend on the other hand is  _desperate_ . Keeps complaining to me about it. What do you say?”

She stuck her hand out to him, and he studied it for a solid moment before his subconscious started taunting him, threatening him with whatever the first period bell would bring. He shook her hand and sealed his fate with whatever poor bastard decided to befriend Pidge in high school.

She took her fist and slammed it against his locker. He flung forward by the force of the door swinging open. She gave him a thumbs up before heading on her way, leaving him to wonder about where the Hell first period was.

He spent all seven periods looking for first period, and hiding from hallway security that looked suspiciously like Galra drones. He clobbered one with a textbook at one point, and slam-dunked another in the boys’ room toilet where he hid for the remainder of the day. Eventually, though, he couldn’t hide from Pidge forever because she came back stronger then ever—floating several feet off the ground to be precise. 

She hooked her arms around the top of Keith’s bathroom stall, her grin spreading like a goddamn Cheshire cat.

“What do you want, Pidge,” Keith groaned, bumping his head repeatedly on the toilet paper dispenser. 

She trailed a finger down the length of the stall door and said, “Oh… you know, it’s just a little someone’s waiting for you. Told ‘em they’ve got a date, you know how it goes. Wants to meet you after the football game.”

“Football game?” he said, stopping to look up at her.

She crawled over the stall door and scaled it like a fucking lizard on her way down to meet him. Her feet never touched the tile flooring before she was saying, “Here, I’ll show you,” and parted her jaws. Amongst her row of razor-sharp cat teeth, there came a tunnel, and she swallowed him hole and deposited him exactly where he was supposed to be—at the football game with Hunk at his side.

Keith clamored for his balance, gasping hard as he looked around at the roar of high school football fans waving flags and posters over their heads. Hunk dropped down beside him after doing the wave and dropped an arm around Keith’s shoulders.

“Hey man! Glad you could make it,” he said and promptly held out a hotdog. “Want one? I’ve got plenty.”

“Where’d you get this?” Keith asked, studying it suspiciously before taking a bite.

“Oh, just, you know. My pocket—where I get all my food,” Hunk said. Keith followed Hunk’s hand to where he pulled back the fabric of his coat pocket. Within he found one of Pidge’s junk nebula puffball friends. Its glowing whiskers flashed before it said in a deep baritone, “Hello, Keith.”

Keith stared out at the field, clearly having seen the eyes of Satan, and said, “I think I’m losing my mind, Hunk.”

Someone’s heavy hand landed on his opposite shoulder, and he looked to find Lotor there with his hair in pigtails. “Don’t worry, Keith, it’s just the cycle,” he said. Keith stared at him as the wind picked up those white pigtails and sent them spinning, faster and faster until Lotor lifted from the bleachers and flew off with a gentle wave. “It’ll all pass, Keith, I’m sure of it,” he said.

Keith put a hand to his head and raised the hotdog up just as their team scored a touchdown and sent the bleachers in rampage. “What’s in this thing?” he whispered to himself, but his stomach demanded more of it, and so he complied.

After getting food in his belly, and clearing the image of Lotor in pigtails from his mind, Hunk prompted him up to do the wave, and everything seemed to return to normal. They stood up on the bleachers and chanted profanities at the other team, all in accordance to what he’d seen his peers do at football games back in high school. Though, he’d never had fun doing it—but then again, he didn’t have Hunk there with him. They cupped their hands over their mouths and shouted until their voices went hoarse, and their team crowded together for the final score of 1001 to a mere 56. 

Keith spared a second glance at the score and pointed it out to Hunk, a hand slung around the big guy’s shoulders (with a little difficulty). “Does that seem right to you?” he asked, and Hunk shrugged.

“I dunno, man, I’ve never really been all that big into football,” he confessed. The bleachers were starting to clear out and flood the field, and so the two of them joined in after them. “You know, I only come to the games because my best friend plays for the team.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s, like, the quarterback or something,” Hunk said with a wave of his hand and a roll of his eyes. “Truthfully, I just think all that fame just goes to his head, you know? And with the big Homecoming game coming up, he’s all, ‘I’m gonna be the most popular guy in the school!’ and I’m like ‘Bro, you don’t even have a date to Homecoming—’”

“What’s all these lies about?” someone said, and Keith’s insides fluttered in a wave of pink hearts, flowers, and butterflies. 

The world filled with color and halo lighting as he turned and found  _Lance McClain_ standing there in all his glory. Roses spiraled into bloom across his vision, and in all the reds and pinks, Keith picked out a blue football jersey, hefty shoulder pads and all. Lance tugged his helmet off, tossing his hair back in slow motion. He shook his head and combed his soft hair back, and Keith lost every breath in his lungs at the sight.

The roses disappeared the moment Lance pegged Hunk with a glare and shoved his helmet into Hunk’s chest. “I’ll have you know Pidge  _found me_ a date. So enough of that—embarrassing me in front of this hottie,” Lance said, and just as Lance stuck his thumb out in Keith’s direction, he realized that Lance was looking at the girl standing beside him—clearly not human, and very much Nyma. 

Nyma put a hand on her hip and flashed Keith a peace sign. “Hey,” she said. 

Lance winked at her and reached a hand out so that he could kiss her knuckles like the total sap he was. Keith crossed his arms and turned away from where Lance then walked off with Nyma at his elbow. Keith then turned to Hunk and said, “I think Pidge ate me in the bathroom earlier.”

“Pidge  _ate you out?!_ ” Hunk shrieked, and before Keith could object, Hunk was shaking him by the shoulders screaming, “ _I DIDN’T KNOW YOU TWO WERE INTO THAT!_ ”

“We aren’t! We definitely  _aren’t into that!_ ” Keith cried, slapping both hands to Hunk’s cheeks. “Get ahold of yourself! I’m the one Pidge got to go with Lance to Homecoming!  _I’m_ supposed to be walking away with him instead of Nyma!”

“Whoa, cool it man, geez,” Hunk said. He slapped Keith’s hands away from his face and straightened his football hype gear. Keith fell to his knees, eyes shut and face to the sky as he cried bloody-murder. How could he have gone from making out with Lance in an Altean vehicle to  _this Hell?!_ God has shit in his dinner once again!

Keith clutched to Hunk’s pant legs and sobbed, bubbling, fat tears coating his cheeks and eyelashes. Hunk scooped him up into his arms and carried him off of the football field. Keith threw an arm over his forehead and said, “I’ve spent he past three and a half years as Lance’s rival—I am  _not_ going back to that!”

Hunk hugged him and pet his hand over Keith’s hair. “Sh… I know buddy, I know.”

At that moment, Pidge approached them in the form of a cat scaling the field fencing. She pranced along the pipe on top and stopped to grin evilly at them. Keith’s feet touched the ground once more, but it was impossible to feel grounded when Pidge was slowly becoming the Cheshire cat as this shitshow went on.

“What seems to be the issue?” Pidge asked.

“Lance thinks Nyma’s his date to Homecoming,” Hunk said.

“Oh, that just won’t do,” she said.

“I can’t just barge in now! He seems to really like Nyma,” Keith confessed, settled with his arms crossed and a pout on his lips. “I hate her.”

“No you don’t,” Pidge sighed. “Look, I can take care of this—”

“Pidge!” Lance’s voice called out from amongst the football team members. He was hoisted up on their shoulders, though truthfully, Keith knew that Lance hadn’t scored them the winning touchdown. Still, the football team carried Lance and Nyma over where they dropped to their feet. Nyma giggled as Lance slung an arm around her shoulders. 

Lance reached over to scratch Pidge behind the ears, and she hissed at him viciously. “Hey man, thanks for setting me and Nyma up,” he said.

“I didn’t  _ask_ Nyma,” Pidge hissed. “She’s not your date.”

“What?” Lance said, tipping into shellshock when Nyma pried herself away from him and bitchslapped him. Keith covered his eyes in mortification as Nyma stormed off, and Lance teared up. “Pidge—how could you do this to me!”

“Get a grip, man,” Pidge said, hoisting up onto her hind legs to peg Lance with one of her cute, orange tabby paws. “She’s not your date. Now get ready for Homecoming ‘cause we’ll meet you there.”

“Who is it?” Lance asked, and the moment Keith tried opening his mouth, his lips zipped shut. He grabbed at his mouth and tried to pry his lips apart as Pidge answered vaguely and dismissed Lance from the group. 

As soon as Lance was gone, Keith gasped in a lungful of air and cried, “No, wait—! Oh, God, he’s going to hate me. I just ruined his date with Nyma. I should tell him it’s me—”

“No way,” Pidge said. “You’re staying right here until Homecoming.”

“But I need to get ready—”

“No, you’re going in that,” she said, and Keith frowned down at his usual high school getup. Black jeans and a leather jacket.

“What? No! This isn’t Homecoming formal,” he insisted, but Pidge was already prancing away, tail flicking in the air. Hunk clapped Keith on the shoulder and walked off, leaving Keith stuck to the concrete—literally. He couldn’t move his feet.

He threw his arms up and screamed at God for ruining his chances with Lance.

Homecoming, thankfully, took place that night after the Homecoming football match, and so Keith only needed to wait a couple hours out there with his forehead to the fencing pole. In the midst of all this, the football team finally cleared out to get ready in the locker rooms, and Keith watched Lance among them, laughing with those cute dimples that made Keith want to strangle Pidge for sticking him over  _here_ would he could be over  _there_ . 

Somehow, he caught Lance’s attention, though, without even having to say a word. 

Lance dismissed himself from the football group and jogged over to where Keith was standing. He was still on the field, and so with the fencing as a divider, Lance draped his forearms over it and grinned at Keith. 

“Hey,” he said, and Keith’s heart nearly gave out.

“Hi,” he said, beaming. He was sure he was blushing, and he double-checked to make sure he was still wearing clothes because for a split second of panic, he thought it was one of  _those_ dreams.

“I see you’re hanging out with Pidge and Hunk now,” Lance said, and tipped his head curiously to the side. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Lance.”

He reached a hand out. Keith shook it, perfectly aware of Lance’s  _flirty face_ —lidded eyes, crooked grin, the  _dimples_ . The fact that Keith was worthy of it was enough to make him comatose, but somehow he stayed standing. 

“Keith. I’m you’re—” His lips zipped shut again, and as he grabbed at them to pry his lips apart, Lance threw his head back laughing.

“Pidge put a spell on you! Oh, man, that’s priceless!” Lance hollered, kicking a leg out as Keith finally grappled for air and pushed both hands against the fencing—on either side of Lance’s arms. This close, Lance met his eyes and said, “So… you’re my… what?”

“Biggest fan!” Keith shrieked, and clapped both hands over his mouth in horror. Thankfully, Lance just found it funny, and dropped his head to his arms as he giggled to himself over it. The embarrassment fizzled in his chest like sparkling water until Lance recovered with a sigh, brushing a finger under his eye to rid it of tears.

“Oh, man, that was good. Say,  _Biggest Fan_ , why don’t you join me and the guys in the locker room? We’re getting wasted before the dance,” Lance said, and Keith was quick to agree. Lance walked off, and Keith leant forward to follow him, preparing to jump the fence, but his feet caught on the concrete and dragged him back. 

Keith cursed Pidge for this, and tried again, clinging to the fencing and trying to drag himself away from the spot, but it was no use. Lance continued walking, even as Keith said, “Hey,  _wait!_ I can’t leave this spot! Pidge put a spell on me! Lance!  _Lance!_ ”

 

* * *

 

Keith jolted awake with a start, shouting, “LANCE!” before gasping in all of the air he held back when he dreamt about Pidge wearing that Cheshire smile. He clutched at his chest, staring at the ceiling for the moment it took for him to register a shadow moving around on the wall beside him. He looked out at the open center of the room where Pidge sat, engulfed in her tech. She reached up to steady the sensor positioned over her laptop before she caught Keith staring.

“Morning,” she said, and added with a grumble, “You certainly slept like the dead.”

With a grunt, he pushed himself up, a hand to his aching head. That cycle migraine was back and stronger than ever. “How long was I out?” he asked.

“Something like thirteen hours,” she said, and at the shock on his face, she said, “I know. Your mom came in earlier to make sure you were still breathing.”

“Was I talking in my sleep at all?” he asked, dragging his feet off the cot and onto the floor. Pidge shrugged. His head felt full of fluff and he couldn’t quite clear it. Shaking his head only worsened the symptoms. He sniffled and pushed the heels of his palms to his eyes. “God, I feel like I was just steamrolled by a goddamn tractor.”

“Lotor said you get weird dreams when you’re at the tail end of the cycle,” Pidge said. 

“Really? That sounds like deja vu,” he said, swaying a little as he came to sit beside her. He clutched at his aching stomach and willed it to stop complaining about how hungry he was. The hunger was so intense, he felt it all the way up his throat where his gag reflex threatened to act up. He cleared his throat and tried not to dry-heave.

“Yeah, well, he and Allura came in earlier to check on you. Allura said that you should find her as soon as you’re up.”

“They both did?”

“Well, not at the same time. I get the impression that Lotor’s cycle’s over. He’s avoiding her like the plague,” Pidge said. Keith watched the way her fingers flew over the keyboard, and wondered why this change in attitude disturbed him. Perhaps because that could be him next? Would he forget everything he and Lance did on Olkarion, on Earth? Would he decide to forget about Lance entirely for the sake of his heart?

No, Lance cares about you, his mind insisted, and in the time it took for Keith to differentiate the imp and his conscience, Pidge was on her feet.

“Dude, I can hear your stomach growling,” she said. She reached down to pull him up by his arms. When her hands made contact with his arms, the pressure sent a shiver up his arms that translated into a visible shudder, stilling him in his place. She let go immediately. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t think you’d still be sensitive.”

“I wasn’t—” he started, but he lost control of his lungs. He pushed a hand to the ground and shoved himself up, groaning with the effort. “Shit. I’m fine. Just—give me a second.”

His head swam as he lifted himself from the ground. It felt as though gravity affected his skull with a new level of intensity, and he cursed this godforsaken artificial atmosphere because of it. His vision clouded in black spots, and it took a severe amount of effort to lower himself back onto the cot just to shut his eyes and get the breath to say, “I can’t walk.”

“I- I’ll get Coran,” Pidge said, eyes wide as she turned and ran from the tent. Alone, Keith held his forearm to his eyes, and willed his brain to stop draining the blood from his face. 

When Coran came with Krolia in tow, Keith couldn’t move. His entire body was sore, and one look at him prompted Krolia to say, “Growing pains?”

“That seems likely,” Coran said, hands on his hips. “We’ve rooted through the med tent’s stash of painkillers. Pidge said you in pain, yes?”

“Fuck yeah,” Keith moaned, flopping an arm out. Pidge sidled up with several bottles of pills and held them up to Krolia to investigate. She tossed the first two away and settled on the last, popping open the cap and dispensing one pill onto Keith’s palm. He swallowed it whole without a second thought. 

“I… was going to suggest splitting it in half,” Krolia said. Keith spared a second to glare at her. “They’re for full grown Galra.”

“Goodness,” Coran sighed, slapping a hand to his face. Pidge turned the bottle around to look for side effects. 

Krolia crouched down beside her and Keith and took the bottle up in her hands. She was far more fluent in Galra medical terminology. “Essentially, we can expect numbness, iffy depth perception, and… well, it says here that it’s a toss-up between hyperactivity or delirious exhaustion.”

“If human pain killers have those sorts of effects, they tend to lean more towards exhaustion,” Pidge said.

“I just slept for thirteen hours…” Keith moaned, turning onto his side. He looked helplessly to her mother, who showed no sympathy.

“You slept thirteen hours because you weren’t sleeping  _before_ ,” she snarled at him, teeth bared. He bared his teeth back as best he could, but his gums ached to do so. He set his lips into a dense frown as he watched his mother turn away and disappear out of the tent flap. She stood there with her arms crossed, seething over her idiot son for not taking care of himself while he was on his first cycle. 

Keith dissolved into an animalistic snarl. He wasn’t sure why—maybe frustration, irritation, at disappointing his mother?—but regardless, Pidge put her hand to his head and pet him like he was the goddamn cat. The snarling subsided, and the frown came back, his big, cat eyes looking up at her as she soothed his hair back and said, “Lance was right—you do purr.”

The snarling came back tenfold.

 

* * *

 

Keith was bedridden for the remainder of the day, and the moment Pidge left to get them dinner with Hunk, he was alone for the first time since getting to the camp. He could feel the drowsiness tugging at him up until the moment he heard footsteps slipping past the tent threshold. He peeked over at where Allura stood, crouched, sneaking into his tent. They stared at one another until Allura got her bearings and raced over, crouching beside him at the cot.

“I went to go look for Lance,” she whispered.

He straightened, all exhaustion vanishing at the memory of leaving Lance behind in the Altean Paradise. “And?” he asked. “Was he still there?”

She shook her head, distress creasing her brow. Keith put his hands to his head and groaned. “How could we have lost him?” he moaned.

“It’s fine, it’ll be okay, Keith, I promise,” she said. “I’m going back out there soon, but no one’s willing to talk to me at the city.”

“Get Lotor to help you,” he insisted, and Allura’s expression immediately soured. “What? What is it? I mean, he helped us with the whole clone thing—”

“It isn’t that,” she said, muttering, eyes to the ground. She trailed her fingers along the fabric of his cot with a scowl. “I… said some pretty mean things and he called me immature.”

“Well, now you are acting immature—”

“Keith—”

“Allura, we need to find Lance,” Keith insisted, only to shut his eyes and shake his head. “No, you need to find him. As soon as I stand up I collapse. Just ask Pidge.”

“I’m not asking you to come with me. I just want to let you know that I’m on it, alright?” she said. She met his eyes with the determination of a friend who had done wrong. “We should have just come clean about putting Lance’s conscious into the clone, but… we didn’t, so I’m going to make this right. We’ll find Lance and deal with the consequences when I bring him back to camp.”

“What? No! Don’t bring him back to camp—” Keith hissed, but Allura was on her feet and heading for the exit. He felt like he was in that dream again, stuck on the concrete as he watched Lance walk away. “Allura—! Don’t you—Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

He threw his pillow at the nearest object—Pidge’s shut laptop—and threw himself back down onto the cot. He crossed his arms and scowled at the ceiling, insides roiling at the thought of Lance out there, terrified and alone for nearly twenty-four hours now. He’d be a missing person before long.

Allura was determined to do something about this, though. They’d lost Lance before, right? So this couldn’t be any more difficult than those other times. In fact, the entire team had disappeared before and they all found their way back to each other. She just had to scope out the entire surface area of the memory Paradise. It wouldn’t be difficult. She  _refused_ to make it difficult.

Though, she did feel guilty for leaving Keith in such a state. As soon as she thought so, she shook her head and reminded herself that Keith wasn’t himself anyhow. Sure, he was still Keith, but this wasn’t the usual Keith she was accustom to. He was getting used to this just as much as she was, and so she wasn’t in the position to judge.

She marched her way to the gateway entry, and as she climbed the steps and approached the open doorway, she found Lotor and Coran there. Coran had his hands on his hips, brow furrowed in concentration. Allura approached beside him, looking up at the digital screen Lotor was manipulating. It was dotted with blue markings, all condensed within the flat surface of a hemisphere at varying levels. She realized it was… a map of the city. 

“We found this among Haggar’s things. A way to track all of the clones in the city,” Coran explained. “We seem to have lost our dear doppelgänger.”

“Oh my,” Allura said.

“I told Coran that likely disposed of itself,” Lotor said. Allura looked up at him, and how he kept his eyes stationed on the screen. “The cyropod system disposed of damaged bodies in a crematorium beneath the clone room. I imagine Haggar didn’t want other people messing with her clones, so it must be written in their code to dispose of themselves before further research can be done.”

“There weren’t any ashes in the crematorium as far as I could tell—well, aside from some dust,” Coran said with a little twiddle of his fingers. He combed them through his mustache then with a sigh. “I suppose that could be.”

“Did you check its original pod?” Allura asked.

“No, it didn’t seem relevant,” Coran said.

“Why don’t you go check,” Lotor and Allura said.

The two of them were almost too shocked to bother following the raise of Coran’s eyebrow as he glanced at them both before turning to head for the clone room. Allura looked away from Lotor to watch her uncle vanish behind the elevator door before Lotor hurriedly pulled up Lance’s clone coordinates from where he hid them from Coran in the system. 

Lotor cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right, well, it seems he found some friends. You’ll find him in the fifth district. You can use this to track his biorhythms,” he said, collapsing the map into a chip similar to the one he used to power the Earth equipment and provide data to Green. Allura held out her tablet, and he pressed it to the corner of the screen. A circle illuminated around it, the loading sequence ticking before at last bringing up a map of the Paradise.

“Perfect,” she said. She turned to leave, and thought better of it. She glanced over her shoulder at him and said, “Thanks Lotor,” before hurrying off to the elevator. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for it, and when the doors at last let her in, she turned back to find Lotor watching after her, silhouetted by the gateway opening. He looked away as soon as their eyes met.

Alone in the elevator, she grinned, proud of having accomplished that much civility around him.

At the Paradise level, the doors to the elevator slid open, and the bright, vibrant interior emerged before her. She stepped out onto a stone walkway that faded into the forest, overgrown by vines and grass. During the time of the Coalition’s occupancy, a path had been cleared to the city outskirts, and as she approached it, she pulled up the map on her tablet and began navigating the city streets. She triggered her suit helmet upon passing civilians, and kept her eyes down and her attention forward, tracking the blue line on her map to Lance’s location.

Lance was on the move, though, and soon, Allura was chasing after his trail across a park, and through a public patio overlooking the streets. She crossed a bridge high above the ground level, and searched through the intersection of streets below for any sighting of Lance.

She followed the mark on the map with her finger, and it cast away to a narrow passage between the buildings—stairs descending from the level she stood on. There, a gathering of Alteans emerged, and in the midst of them was—

“Lance!” Allura shouted, bolting up onto the railing. She raised a hand to him, shouting his name again, and the group of Alteans stopped with Lance at the front, jaw hanging loose.

Without wasting a second, Allura pocketed her tablet and leapt from the railing. She kicked off of a building ledge, swung from a sign post, and spun around the length of a street lamp no more than a few paces away from their group. Lance’s groupies jumped at the sight, and stuck together as Allura ran up to them, and flung her arms around Lance’s neck.

“I was so worried!” she cried, twirling them around. She pushed away as he settled his hands on her hips and smiled. “Are you alright? I tried to come back for you but Krolia—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he said, smiling. “Where’s Keith?”

“Oh, um… well…” she started, hand to the chin of her helmet.

One of the Alteans approached then, resting a hand on Lance’s back as she raised an eyebrow at Allura and asked, “Um… who’s this, Lance?”

Lance laughed nervously, scratching at his hair as he gestured to Allura and said, “Well, um… this the huntress of our campaign, Princess Allura.”

Allura clamped her mouth shut and stared in horror at Lance, and then to the remainder of his group. She then realized that he had compiled a team of… all women. The campaign.  _Oh my stars, we really are roleplaying, aren’t we?_ she thought as the girls murmured amongst themselves. The leader of them eyed Allura suspiciously before giving a firm nod.

“Alright then. I’ve got to say—I wasn’t expect that entrance from a princess,” she said, nodding to the street lamp and then the bridge Allura had jumped from. Allura glanced back at it and then to the girls as they flocked around her and Lance. Lance crossed his arms with a cocky grin.

“I know, right? Most badass princess ever,” he said.

“ _Lance_ ,” Allura hissed, and Lance shrugged.

“I’m just being honest! Besides, Keith’s more extra than you anyways. Speaking of—where’s that bozo hiding?” he asked.

One of the girls poked at Allura’s helmet, and so she collapsed it and eyed them all without the filter of her visor. She didn’t miss the way their eyes widened. She cleared her throat and said, “Keith… is a bit under the weather. Something called  _migraines_ and general fatigue.”

“What? Why? Is he okay?” Lance asked, straightening up with a look of utter concern on his face. Allura was sure she would have been more taken aback by it had Keith not been obvious enough already about his relationship with Lance.

Allura didn’t know what to say, and thankfully, one of the girls interrupted before she  _could_ say anything. “We can’t play Monsters and Mana without the antagonist!” one of the girls cried.

“So it  _is_ still a common game?” Allura asked, and the girls all nodded.

“We play once every moon cycle,” she said. “It’s difficult organizing the events, so not so often as I would like. Was Monsters and Mana common back on the homeland?”

Allura hid her surprise as best she could, but it was hard to do so when they were asking  _her_ questions about the  _original Altea_ . She smiled and laughed nervously, looking away with a wave of her hand, “Oh, I never really got into it. I was too busy at the Castle, but Coran taught us all to play it a while back. It’s more of a traditional game, past my generation, anyways.”

“Really? I wonder how much our rules have changed in comparison to yours. They’ve evolved over the past millennia—for a while the game was forgotten, but Lotor brought it back for us and our engineers created Mana tables in the game centers,” one of them said, and Allura tried and failed not to sigh at the sound of his name because  _of course_ he was involved in bringing Monsters and Mana back to the paradise.

“I… never knew he played,” she confessed.

“We should ask if he wants to join,” Lance suggested.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. We left off on bad terms after—” she started, and realized all the girls were staring hopefully at her. Allura couldn’t imagine what sort of reaction  _they_ would have to seeing Lotor in person. It just tripled her resolve to not get him involved in this—the last thing she needed was to see a fangirl group chasing Lotor around. “—He just doesn’t seem all that keen on speaking with me right now. Not after the cycle.”

“So he’s back to normal now?” Lance asked, and Allura swayed her hand to and fro in a so-so manner. 

“Cycle?” one of the girls asked.

“It’s nothing like what Alteans have,” Allura corrected, shaking her head. “It has to do with Galran biology.”

“Are you two close with Prince Lotor? Lance said that you two are Paladins of Voltron—I thought Voltron nearly killed him.”

“Nearly,” Allura winced. “We’re trying to… patch our differences together. There were some misunderstandings on both sides.”  _And Haggar meddling didn’t help_ … she mused. “But anyways! Enough about that. It seems we can’t play Monsters and Mana without Keith so we’ll have to postpone that. Would you want to come back to the camp, Lance?” 

Lance blinked, startled, and looked around at his new friends, and then to where Allura stood, awaiting an answer. She could see his response on in his eyes before he said it aloud. She and Keith kept him hidden this long, and both she and Lotor lied to Coran to protect the secret of this conscious shift. If they broke now, who knew what the consequences would be? They’d probably be barred from the Paradise facility forever, and though that didn’t seem like much of a punishment for Lance and Keith, Allura still wanted that connection with the Alteans, even if they were all clones.

“I… I don’t want to cause problems,” Lance confessed. “Just… bring Keith here as soon as he’s able?”

“Yes, of course,” she promised. He nodded, eyes downcast until Allura stepped forward and wrapped him up in a hug. “It will all be okay. I’ll let him know you’re okay. Lotor gave me a map of the facility and it shows us where you are, so don’t worry about exploring in fear we won’t find you.”

She waved her tablet in front of him with a smile before backing away from the group. The girls all waved with Lance, amused by this human custom. “Hopefully we’ll see you for Monsters and Mana!” one of them called after her. She turned away, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt. She put a hand to her face as she hurried up the steps back to the road she took to get there.

Her smile followed her all the way to the elevator where her heart blossomed from the relief of having met an entire group of Altean women who  _didn’t_ scorn her. The built-up anxiety over never reconciling began to alleviate. 

When the elevator opened to the gateway entrance, she all but pranced to the entrance and spun to the stairs where she skidded to a halt at the sight of Lotor sitting on the steps. He glanced back at her, leaning back on his hand with a raised eyebrow. 

“So, I take it you found Lance,” he said. 

She dropped her hands to her side and lifted her chin. “I did. And  _yes_ , he did make some friends.”

She hurried down a few steps past him before turning back and saying, “They were… nice. And I don’t think they hate me, so… I’d call that a success.”

He nodded, and despite his stoic affect, Allura managed to catch the slight twinge on his lips hinting at the ghost of a smile. “Good. I’m glad,” he said, turning to glance out at the shine of debris orbiting around the planet. 

His eyes lifted overhead as he said, “You know I don’t hate you. Even after everything.”

“By that logic, it must take a lot for you to hate a person,” she said. He turned to her again, eyes narrowing. “I’ve done far too much to not qualify.”

“It’s all forgivable,” he said, “seeing as I’ve done far too much to not deserve death.”

“Perhaps death is too light a punishment.”

“You’re right—it’s the easy way out. Perhaps you’re my punishment,” he said. He pursed his lips and looked to his hands. He clasped them together firmly before saying, “This past movement was enough of a wakeup call.”

“I don’t quite appreciate being called a punishment,” she told him, arms crossed. He laughed, and she found herself grinning. “Well. I have to go to Keith. I’ll come torment you later.”

“Looking forward to my divine punishment,” he said with a mocking salute. She turned away, shaking her head. No, she was not allowed to be flattered.

Not by him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ELLIE DREW ART OF SOME OF THE SCENES FROM CUBA AND I CRYYYY](https://ellie-clarke-blog.tumblr.com/post/176060271244/i-was-reading-a-fanfic-called-seasonal)
> 
>  
> 
> a;lgkja;klasd;lgkja WRITING ALLURA AND LOTOR'S DIALOGUE HAS BEEN MY FAVORITE THING !!! Like, I know a lot of peeps hate Lotor but I just love him ??? so much ??? Like, if only Edward Cullen could have aged as well as Lotor did. Lotor would make a better vampire. 10/10.
> 
> ;alkdgja IF YALL HAVE IDEAS POST EM BELOW I SERIOUSLY SO APPRECIATE ALL THE IDEAS YALL HAVE COME UP WITH FOR PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!! And if yall liked the dream sequence I can fit another one in if necessary cuz Keith's gonna be in a FEVER STATE without HIS BOY LONCE.

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS FOR SHENANIGANS, SEND EM TO ME!
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://girlskylark.tumblr.com/)


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